


A Case of You

by Blankfreeze1958



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Amnesia, Beautiful Golden Fools, Car Accidents, Domestic Violence, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blankfreeze1958/pseuds/Blankfreeze1958
Summary: PLEASE BE ADVISED:  there is some pretty nasty abuse at the beginning of this chapter.HI! The idea for this came from Highflyer! Thank you for sparking some inspo lol This is for you!I also want to thank Azdaema for helping me figure out the skin for texting! I will update that soon as well.:)
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 98
Kudos: 167





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Highflyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highflyer/gifts).



> PLEASE BE ADVISED: there is some pretty nasty abuse at the beginning of this chapter.
> 
> HI! The idea for this came from Highflyer! Thank you for sparking some inspo lol This is for you!  
> I also want to thank Azdaema for helping me figure out the skin for texting! I will update that soon as well.  
> :)

“You don’t have to go tonight.” Jaime said, his voice low and gravelly as he rolled over in bed to face her. “You can stay in with me instead. I guarantee we’ll have a lot more fun.” He winked at her and then reached out and ran his thumb gently across her cheek.

Cersei rolled her eyes and pulled back. “I’m not letting Robert do this on his own.” She sighed. She’d been trying to secure a deal with a client with Robert for months, and they were so close. She just wanted to be sure Robert didn’t fuck it up. 

“You know, he shouldn’t even be there.” Jaime said. “You poached Johnson, not him.” 

Cersei nodded as she sat up in bed, reaching for her bra. 

Jaime’s eyes skimmed across her body, falling on the pink nipples that protruded from her soft breasts. He watched regretfully as she caged them back in the black lace. 

“If father would just let me on fully… not in legal but as an associate…” She trailed off, her blood beginning to boil. 

Jaime reached out, his hand under the comforter, moving toward her until he found her thigh. He ran his hand up and down across her smooth skin, trying to soothe her, sorry he’d upset her. 

“Maybe next time you and I can work on something together.” He suggested, though he knew that wasn’t truly what she wanted. She wanted father to trust her on her own. 

Cersei twisted the golden wedding band she wore on her forefinger around, and Jaime moved closer and let his hand skim all the way up her leg and then out from under the comforter until he could still her hands.  She looked down at him then and he saw the bruises on her arm - the ones she’d sworn she’d gotten from doing something in the gym. Jaime. couldn’t even remember which excuse she’d used this time. He’d stopped listening to them. He leaned in and kissed each of the four little circular bruises, breathing in the scent of lavender and sex that lingered on her warm skin. 

“Leave him, Cersei.” He said softly, rubbing his hand up and down her arm now. 

She looked away from him, the curtain of her golden hair obscuring her face. 

“Father…” She began to say, but Jaime interrupted. 

“Fuck father. Fuck all of that, Cersei. He doesn’t deserve you. You know that. So what if we lose a bit of business?”

“A bit of business?” She asked incredulously. “Try half, Jaime. Father would disown me.” 

Jaime shrugged. “Might not be the worst thing. I’d gladly join you.” 

Cersei sighed and pulled away from his touch, pushing the comforter back and standing.  Jaime watched her as she pulled her thong back on, working her skirt up and then shrugging her shirt on, buttoning it up to where he could just barely see her cleavage peeking out from underneath. 

He reached for her. “Come back here.” He said. 

“I’ve got to go.” She said, struggling with the little buttons on the cuff of her sleeve. 

Jaime watched her struggle for a minute more, knowing she was too proud to ask for help.  He sighed and pushed the covers back on his side, climbing out of bed and pulling his sweatpants on.  He made his way over to her and took her wrist in his hand. She didn’t pull away. He buttoned the buttons on her right wrist and then took her left and did the same, bringing her hand to his lips afterward and pressing a kiss there. 

“Call me after?” He asked, his hand moving to her neck, fingers wrapping around her alabaster skin, shrouded by her soft hair. He traced his thumb down the lines of muscle there and into the divot of her collar, just at the base of her neck. She looked up at him, and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer and pressing his lips to hers. She softened against him and opened her lips to his tongue. They kissed for a long moment before Cersei pulled away again. 

“We’ll see.” She said, pretending to be apathetic as she turned and left him there, but he’d seen the little smirk on her lips.

It brought a soft smile to his face and he allowed himself to collapse backward onto the mattress, sighing deeply. Gods, he loved her. 

* * *

The meeting had not gone as planned. Robert had drank too much and had acted like a bloody idiot. Cersei had remained painfully sober in an attempt to make up for Robert’s idiocy, but after the clients had left without having signed on, she’d gone to the bar and gotten sufficiently drunk herself in an attempt to drown out her embarrassment and failure. 

Robert found her after a while and started groping her as she sat at the bar. She spurned him and it had made him furious. 

“You think you can just treat me like that?” He’d barked. “Like I’m some bloody hound off the street?” He laughed in her face as he pulled her by the arm out into the cold darkness. This fight had been a long time coming. They'd felt the tension building up for weeks and now, with both of the inebriated, it the seams started to tear. 

“I’m your husband.” He hissed, jerking her around, digging his fingers back into the bruises he’d already left on her. She’d pulled back and he’d slapped her, knocking her head back and causing her nose to bleed. She looked around hoping someone had seen, but there was nobody out in the parking lot but them. 

“Come on.” Robert pulled her again. He wanted to get home. “I’m going to show you who you belong to.” He said. 

“Stop it.” She shouted, trying to yank his arm out of his grasp, but he was too strong.

He yanked back twice as hard and Cersei yelped. He threw open the door to the passenger side of the car and tried to push her in, but she fought against him. “You’re bloody sloshed!” She shouted, as if she weren’t. “How d’you expect to drive?” 

Robert was frightening when he was like this. He couldn’t be reasoned with, and it scared Cersei more than she cared to admit. But she knew she’d be in trouble if they were to attempt to drive home, so she kept fighting. She fought until Robert grew tired of it and simply pushed her back, bashing the back of her head against the car door and effectively knocking her out. It wasn’t the first time Robert had done that to her. It had happened twice before. Each time he’d been blackout drunk and hadn’t even realised what he was doing. This time was no different. He didn’t mean to hurt her that way, she just made him so _angry_ sometimes. 

And he’d driven drunk before. Nothing ever happened to him. The drive back to their house was quick. He wasn’t worried. 

He shut the passenger side door and climbed in the driver’s seat fumbling around with the keysuntil he started the car. 

* * *

“Hello?” Jaime got the call late that night. He answered it without even checking the caller ID as he was sure it would be Cersei. 

_"There’s been an accident. You’re going to want to be here."_

It hadn’t been Cersei. Tywin had called him from the hospital. 

Jaime had never driven so fast in all his life. He was sure he must’ve been going double the speed limit, but he was too flustered to even bother checking. He wouldn’t have stopped even if he were being pulled over. His car came to a screeching halt in front of the Hospital and he threw the flashers on before running inside, hardly even bothering to bring his keys with him let alone lock the car.

“Cersei Lannister.” He barked to the nurse sitting at the from desk. She looked up, alarmed at the disheveled man shouting at her. “Cersei Lannister!” Jaime repeated with even greater urgency, if that were possible.

The woman clicked away on her keyboard, and just as Jaime were about to storm through the double doors behind the desk, the woman read him a number.

“Two seventy four.” She squeaked, pointing to Jaime’s right.

Trauma. Jaime pushed through the doors and climbed a flight of stairs three at a time, before flying through the hallway, counting off rooms to keep himself present. 262, 264, 266, 268, 270, 272… He pushed the door to 274 open, his heart in his throat, afraid of what he might find there. But he just stood there then, blinking under the bright buzzing hospital lights. Tywin sat on a small green chair in the corner of the room, his tie half undone.

“Where is she?” Jaime nearly yelled at his father.

“Surgery.” Tywin answered almost immediately.

“Where?” Jaime asked, as though it mattered. As though he could go be with her, hold her hand.

Tywin shook his head. “Sit down.”

“Si-“ Jaime laughed, his hands flying to the top of his head. Fingers clutching at his hair, tears burning his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice higher than normal as he tried to keep from breaking down in tears.

Tywin shook his head again. “Sit down.”

Jaime covered his face with his hands. How could he let this happen? He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. There was no him without her. There was nothing without her. Tywin was about to ask Jaime to sit again when Tyrion came through the door. 

“Is she alright?” He demanded. Jaime noted the worry on his brother’s face and appreciated it as he and Cersei almost always fought. Tywin ran his hand through the neat facial hair that clung closely to his chin.

“I don’t know.” Tywin answered simply. Jaime stared at his father, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights growing impossibly loud in his ear.

“Jaime.” His brother’s voice was muffled. Nearly drowned out now, but Jaime felt Tyrion’s hand on his back, and then his father’s arm around him, and next thing he knew, he was in his own green chair, breathing loudly, sweating profusely, his heart in his throat.

“Robert’s dead.” Tywin said plainly. Any other time and Jaime would have found this news a cause for celebration, but right now it only spoke to how serious the car crash had been. “He was driving.” Tywin said, clearing his throat. “He was drunk.” Jaime detected a hint of disapproval in his father’s voice. Jaime bit his lip. If the bastard weren’t dead already Jaime would’ve finished the job himself.

“Why would she let him drive?” Tyrion thought aloud.

“It wasn’t her fault!” Jaime found himself yelling, defending his sister.

Tyrion stepped back. “No.” He said gently. “Of course not. I’m just trying to understand why.”

Jaime wrapped his arms around himself, wishing more than anything that she could be in between them. He wanted to hold her close, he was sure it would make everything better. It ended up being another excruciating hour before the surgeon joined them in their little room. Jaime stood as soon as the man entered the room.

“Everything looks good.” The surgeon began, and Jaime felt a wave of relief wash over him. “She’s stable for now. We’re going to move her and get her settled in the room."

“Is she awake?” Jaime asked, eagerly.

The doctor shook his head. “That’s the other thing we wanted to speak with you all about. We’ve put her in a medically-induced coma. She’s had some significant head trauma. We’re not fully sure how that will manifest itself as she regains consciousness.”

Jaime could feel his throat closing and his eyes welling up with tears. It all seemed so abstract without being able to see her. Surely it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, was it? The three men waited another half hour before a few orderlies brought Cersei in on a stretcher. Jaime pushed past them straight to Cersei, uncaring of who was around.

“Cers.” He whimpered, his hand on her cheek, thumb stroking across it.

She was beautiful even now covered in bruises and cuts. Her golden hair fell down over her shoulders, over the white hospital gown she wore with little blue stitched diamonds stretching all across the fabric. Her face was marred with little red marks; three on her eyebrow, two by her hairline, one on her chin. There was another on her cheek that Jaime wanted nothing more than to kiss for her. She was warm, and he was glad for that, but he pulled the thin hospital blanket up further over her anyway. She was breathing softly, her lips closed in what almost looked like a smirk. Jaime wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she knew he was here. He took her hand and squeezed it tight, the tears burning his eyes again as he crumpled forward in his chair, forehead against her hip. Tyrion stood at Jaime’s side, his hand on his shoulder. Tywin watched carefully from the other side of the bed.

“She’ll be ok.” Tywin said, assuredly. “She’s a Lannister. She’ll be ok.”

Jaime shut his eyes tightly, trying not to outwardly sob in front of his brother and father.

And thus began Jaime’s vigil at his twin’s side. Tyrion brought him food, his laptop, and Jaime would wait with Cersei, hoping each day she’d awaken from her slumber. He watched her one afternoon, as the late sunlight shone through her window and illuminated her hair. Her skin was pale now, but it not more so than normal, she’d always had beautiful milky skin. Jaime just wished it weren’t marred with Robert’s accident. Her lips were rosy as ever and Jaime had taken the opportunity when he was alone with her to kiss her softly more than a few times, both on her lips and on her cheeks. He wished he could wake her that way, like she was sleeping beauty, with his soft kisses to take away the pain, stroking her hair the way she liked him to do. She’d curl into him and he’d hold her and tell her all the gory details he’d heard about Robert’s remains, so she’d know he got what he deserved and that he would never hurt her again. She did look rather like sleeping beauty, he thought.

“Hey, Cers.” He said, sitting beside her and taking her hand. “I hope you can hear me.” He was speaking in little more than a whisper, his lips nearly touching her ear. “I want you to know that I’m going to take care of everything. Everything with Robert’s funeral. You don’t have to worry about anything except getting better.”

He paused a moment and stroked Cersei’s hair. “And I know it’s hard but father’s right. You’re a Lannister. You’re a lion, and if anyone can pull through this it’s you.” He cleared his throat as he felt the frustration in him grow. “Cersei I miss you. Please come back to me soon.”

Jaime spent most nights curled up under a hospital blanket on his green chair. During the day Tyrion would come to keep Jaime company for an hour or so, but nights he was on his own. It got lonely trying to sleep there across from her.

Some nights it got to be too much and he would climb into bed next to her, careful not to disturb any of the lines or wires that she was hooked in to. He would nuzzle her neck the way he’d have done any night they’d been alone, and she would be warm, like she were really there with him, but in his darkest moments, Jaime would admit to himself that he didn’t know if she were really there at all. But he’d wrap his arms around her and hold her close anyway, because she was _somewhere_. And he wanted to be there with her.

One night he spoke to her, stroking her hair as she lay there next to him, breathing softly as always. “I know you’re in there, Cers.” He whispered, feeling tears sting his eyes again. It had become a familiar feeling. “I’m waiting for you.” He whispered, his fingers running through her silken hair. “I just want you to know that. Take as long as you need and I’ll be here waiting. I’m never going to leave you.” He leaned on her shoulder and pressed his lips to her neck, kissing her gently.

He’d almost drifted off to sleep when he felt Cersei move. “Cersei?” He nearly shouted it, jumping up from bed and switching the lights on. He squinted to see her moving, her hands rubbing her eyes as they fluttered open. Oh! How he’d missed looking into those emerald eyes.

“Cersei.” He rushed for her bedside, pressing the button to call the nurses. “It’s ok.” He gushed. “You’re ok, you’re safe.” He was crying now, not even realising it. She blinked up at him, her eyes adjusting to the light and she cocked her head. “You don’t have to say anything Cers. Just take your time.

”Who-?” She managed to choke out, her voice hoarse and her throat scratchy. She coughed and Jaime held a cup of water to her lips almost instantly, allowing her to drink deeply.

“Just take your time.” He repeated, his heart bursting. He could hardly contain his elation.

Cersei cleared his throat and Jaime caressed her arm, but she leaned away from him, looking confused. “Who... are you?” She asked softly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback, everyone! :)

Jaime had almost laughed when she’d asked, thinking it was some kind of joke - His twin sister, his lover, his mirror, not knowing who he was. He was _her._ She was _him._ How could she possibly not know that? But Jaime quickly realised that indeed it was something of a joke. A sick joke played by the universe. 

“It’s Jaime.” He’d whispered as the nurse arrived and paged a doctor. “It’s me, Cers.”

He thought maybe she’d just been a bit unsettled, disoriented, but there was no recognition in her face, only confusion.  The doctor arrived shortly and greeted Cersei as Dr. Long. He looked pleased, until she asked him where she was. 

“I can’t remember anything.” She whispered, her lip quivering. 

Dr. Long turned to Jaime who shook his head. 

“I’ll be back in a moment.” The he said, slipping out and leaving the siblings there alone. 

Cersei was staring at the wall in front of her, her brows furrowed.  And then he saw a tear fall from her eye. 

“Oh, Cersei.” He breathed, leaning forward and taking her hand.  But she pulled it away. 

“Please don’t touch me.” She said softly. 

Jaime withdrew quickly albeit reluctantly.

“I don’t know who you are.” She told him again, trying to explain herself when she saw the hurt on his face.  It scared her, that hurt, because it meant she _should_ know who he was. Why didn’t she know? What was wrong with her?

“I’m your brother.” He whispered, his voice shaky, his hand clutching her blanket to keep from touching her instead. 

Cersei just kept staring at the wall.

“It’s ok.” Jaime reassured her when another tear fell and she wiped it away before he could reach out and do it himself. “It’ll be ok.” He said gruffly, hoping it were the truth.  “Listen, Cers.” He said and she turned to him. 

“What's my name?” She asked. “You said it before. Longer than Cers. What was it?”

Jaime swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “Cersei.” He said softly. He reached out and took her hand and she allowed it, though she watched him wearily.

“Your name is Cersei.” He said. 

She nodded then, biting her lip. “And you’re Jaime? I think... that’s what you said, right? My brother?” 

He brought his other hand to hers, holding her hand between the two of them. 

“Yes.” He said, nodding. “I’m your brother. Your twin brother.”

Cersei swallowed hard and then raked her eyes over Jaime. He was sure he must be a sight about now. He had on jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt. He hadn’t showered in nearly three days. His hair was a mess, and he had bags under his eyes. 

But Cersei didn't see any of those things. In fact, she couldn't help but notice that he was quite handsome. She wondered if she were just as beautiful. She couldn’t remember what she looked like, and there were no mirrors in the hospital room. 

“Do you have a photo?” She asked, “from before?”

Jaime had been lost in her eyes for a moment, but upon her request, he snapped up from his chair and dug his phone from his coat pocket, pulling up a photo of them on a recent trip to Rome. They’d been there for business, but Cersei and Jaime had managed to sneak off on their own for some of it.  He showed her a picture of the two of them huddled together in a booth at a café on a gloomy day.The window behind them was streaked with rain drops, but Cersei's golden hair and smile seemed to light up the whole scene. She was looking up at Jaime, who was also smiling bright, turned toward the camera. Jaime had gone back to that picture over and over, never tiring of the way she looked at him there.

Cersei felt herself calm a bit at the fact that she, at some point, seemed to be very relaxed around Jaime. She had trusted him.  “Oh.” Cersei breathed, her hand reaching out and tracing her face and then Jaime’s. “We look happy. We look... close.” 

Jaime’s face reddened. Obviously she didn’t remember _how_ close they’d been.

And then it hit him. _Fuck_. He was nothing to her. And all he could tell her was that they’d been siblings. Was he supposed to tell her that they were in love? That they’d been fucking like teenagers since they were… teenagers? That they'd been inseparable since before they left their mother's womb? That they completed each other? 

She stared at the screen for a while longer, her fingers stroking across the pixels until she accidentally scrolled to the next picture. 

“Oh!” She gasped, drawing her hand back. “Oh, I’m sorry. What did I do?” 

Jaime winced. “It’s ok, that’s how you scroll.” He said, showing her by scrolling through a few other photos. 

“Oh.” She said softly, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment. 

“It’s ok.” He reassured her, taking her hand again. Her memories of the machinations of an iPhone were not his main concern. 

Cersei pulled the phone toward her with her other hand somewhat demandingly, and that made Jaime feel slightly more relaxed. _His_ Cersei was still in there somewhere. 

“Who’s this?” She asked.

It was a picture of all of them; she, Robert, Tyrion, father and Jaime. Robert had his arm around her, his fingers clearly trying to graze her breast. 

“That’s our father. That’s our brother, Tyrion. He’s six years younger. That’s um me and you and... that is Robert.” He said the name as if it pained him, and indeed it did. 

“Is he our… friend?” She asked him. 

Jaime scratched the back of his head. “He was your husband.” The word burned as it rolled off his tongue. 

“Oh.” She said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Was?” She bit her lip. “Are we divorced?”

Jaime cleared his throat. “No, Uh... you... he was the one... well you were in a car accident and uh... that’s why you’re _here._ Robert was the one driving and he didn’t... he didn’t make it.”

Jaime hated the look on her face; sadness, despair, remorse. 

“But it’s ok because you didn’t much care for him, anyhow.” Jaime added quickly, as if it would mean anything to her now.

This was a lot of information for Cersei to take in, and she was breathing harder now, feeling panic rising within her. 

“He was the one driving. It wasn’t your fault, Cersei.” Jaime assured her. 

He slid the phone gently from her grip and replaced it with his hand instead.  “Look at me.” 

Cersei turned toward him, tears dancing in her eyes.

“I know it’s scary.” He said softly. 

A tear fell from her eye and Jaime went to wipe it from her cheek, but Cersei flinched backward.

“I’m sorry.” Jaime choked out immediately, drawing his hands back and silently chastising himself. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She whispered, her hands on her own arms just above her elbows, almost as if she were hugging herself. 

Jaime looked on in pain. She didn’t need to do that. He would do it for her. He would hold her if only she'd let him. If only she knew. If only he could tell her. If only he could make her remember. 

“We’re going to figure this out, Cers.” He said. “I promise we will.”

Cersei exhaled shakily and nodded, but it was impossible for her to believe that with the panic rising within her.

“You’re not alone.” He told her, and she thought it was as if he were reading her mind. 

She looked at him, wanting him to say more, taking comfort in his kind eyes and gentle words despite how little she knew of him.  Jaime cleared his throat when he realised she was waiting for him to say more. 

“I’m going to be here every step of the way.” He told her. “Whatever happens, Cersei, you’re my sister. I’ve known you my whole life.”

Cersei looked down at Jaime’s hands. He was nearly wringing them. She was so much more than that.  He stilled his hands when he tracked her gaze. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, not wanting her to feel his nerves. “I just want you to know that it’s going to be ok. If you need someone to fill in the blanks, it’s ok… I’m your guy. You’ve got me. You always have.” 

Cersei swallowed hard. She wracked her brain, trying her best to remember this man in front of her. She could feel how much pain he was in. She wished she could offer him something, a kernel of hope that the woman he wanted; the one he was expecting to have back, was inside of her _somewhere_ , but she couldn’t. She didn’t remember. And so she simply nodded and breathed a “Thank you.” Before looking back toward Jaime’s phone. 

“Why didn’t I like him?” She asked, still studying the photo of Robert with his arm around her. He was quite large and hairy. Not as handsome as Jaime, but not terrible looking. Cersei thought they made an alright couple, but she didn’t feel much at the fact that he was dead. She couldn’t. She didn’t know him. She didn’t remember him at all. She wondered how long they’d been married. 

“He wasn’t kind to you.” Jaime said quickly, hoping that would suffice for now. And indeed, it would have to because at that, Dr. Long re-entered the room with another man in a white coat behind him. 

“Cersei, Jaime, this is Dr. Scott. He’s a neurologist and he specialises in trauma to the hippocampus.”

The twins watched as he showed them a photo of that part of the brain and explained that is where we know memories are stored.

“What we see with trauma to this part of the brain is often manifested in bouts or isolated cases of amnesia. It’s hard to say what this is, but we do tend to see it get better over time with continuous exposures to the previously familiar.”

Cersei looked skeptical, but Jaime was willing to hang on to anything he was given. 

"So she'll eventually remember everything?" He asked. 

Cersei looked up hopefully. 

Dr. Scott smiled. "That's the hope. We see about a sixty percent memory recovery rate in cases like this. 

Jaime bit his lip. That didn't sound quite as optimistic. 

The doctors checked Cersei out and decided she'd stay the night in the hospital for monitoring and then they'd clear her to go home if everything checked out the next afternoon.

Tyrion and Tywin each made their way over to the hospital, with Tyrion arriving shortly after Jaime had told them the situation. He'd made sure to explain in advance Cersei's amnesia in an effort to keep things as relaxed as possible for Cersei's sake. 

"Sister!" Tyrion bellowed as he burst into the room. 

Cersei jumped and reached for Jaime, out of some unexplained instinct - almost as a reflex, clutching his arm.  Jaime turned to Tyrion, his hand over Cersei's, squeezing an assurance.  He eyed Tyrion angrily, and his brother cocked his head, confused. 

"What's wrong?" Tyrion asked, somewhat sarcastically. "I thought we'd be throwing a party now that ol' Robbie's finally shoved off!"

Jaime scowled at Tyrion and Cersei gripped Jaime's arm tighter. 

"She doesn't remember." Jaime hissed under his breath. 

"Well, we'll remind her, then! That fat bastard’s kicked the bucket for good!" He chimed. 

" _Anything_." Jaime hissed, and Tyrion stilled. 

"Anything... Like..."

"I don't know who you are." Cersei interrupted them, tired of being left out of a conversation about herself.

Tyrion and Jaime turned to look at her.  Her face was red, and Jaime could tell how upset she was. 

"I don't know who either of you are, though I've been told you're my brothers." She said, managing somewhat to keep her composure; a mammoth feat given the circumstances.  Tyrion was silent for a moment, his eyes darting between his brother and sister before bursting into a fit of laughter. 

"Stop it!" He howled. "I mean, I'll hand it to you, you had me going at first but..." 

Jaime and Cersei did not waver.  Tyrion calmed himself. "Surely you're joking?"

Jaime shook his head, solemnly.  Tyrion eyed Cersei, moving closer.

"So... You don't _hate_ me?" He asked. A test. 

She shifted in bed. "Why would I hate you?" 

"Then give me a hug, dear sister, would you?" It was part of the test, but Tyrion genuinely wanted to hug his sister, glad she'd made it out alive. 

Cersei looked to Jaime, unsure, but Jaime smiled and nodded. "It's ok." He assured her. 

Cersei leaned down, and Tyrion stood up on his tip toes, and the siblings embraced. 

"So you really are serious, then." Tyrion said as he pulled away. 

Tywin showed up at that exact moment. 

"Cersei." He said in his deep voice from where he stood in the open doorway. 

Cersei looked up at the man who was supposedly her father and felt a chill run through her. She could tell how cold he was. 

"I'm sorry to hear of this... predicament." Tywin said. "But rest assured you'll be sent home with the best medical team money can buy. No child of mine is going to forget where she came from. We're _Lannisters_ for God's sakes.

"Father, I thought..." Jaime cleared his throat. "I thought Cersei might come home with me.”

Cersei’s eyes darted between the pair, sensing the tension that seemed to build almost instantaneously. 

Tywin shook his head. "Nonsense." He spat. "You've been away from work far too long. I need you back at the office."

"I can work from home." Jaime countered. 

"I've spoken with her doctors and they've recommended the finest in-home medical services in the country." Tywin reasoned.

"She's not going to be around all those strangers when she can't remember who she is." Jamie snapped.

Tywin was surprised at the firmness in Jaime's tone. 

"I want to go back to my own house."  The men turned to look at Cersei, who continued. "They said the more familiar the situation, the better, so I want to go back. And I think I can manage things myself. Thank you." She said bowing her head at Tywin. 

Jaime looked down at his feet, smirking. _That_ sounded like Cersei.

"So you... You really don't remember who any of us are?" Tyrion asked again, as Jaime shot him a look for the lightness in his voice. 

Cersei didn't notice, she just shook her head. 

"You're a Lannister, that's who you are." Tywin boomed. "You come from the finest bloodline this Gods forsaken world has to offer, and I expect you to act as such. That's all you need to know.”  Tywin strolled out of the room. Sometimes his worry manifested as anger. He wasn't leaving. He needed a moment. 

Cersei looked up at Jaime and he felt himself grow weak in the knees at the innocence in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. But the slight satisfied smirk on her face was what really pushed him to the edge. He’d missed that little smirk. 

"I think he's cross with me." She said.

Jaime couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. 

* * *

The next day, Cersei was discharged from the hospital. Jaime gone out earlier to stock her fridge and bring her back some clothes and shoes.

He set the clothes on her bed as she stood up and began fiddling with the ties of her hospital gown, but she looked up at him expectantly. He was about to help her strip when he realised that she was looking at him not because she wanted his help getting out of her gown, but because he was her _brother_ and she was about to be _naked_. And brothers tended not to be around to see their sisters naked. Jaime blushed and muttered an apology as he stepped outside to give her some privacy. 

She opened the door and poked her head out when she was finished and Jaime was beyond relieved to see her looking like her normal self. 

"Oh, Cers." He breathed. 

He couldn't help wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tight, his hand tangling in her hair as he rocked her.  He turned his face against hers and pressed a kiss to her ear, and promptly felt her hands on his chest, but she wasn't embracing him, she was pushing him away. 

She laughed nervously. 

Jaime's face burned bright red and his heart sank into the ground as he was forced to think again about how Cersei remembered nothing of their relationship. She didn't remember the way he kissed her, the way it felt to be wrapped in each other's arms, their naked bodies pressed together, the way he'd touch her. She didn't remember all those times he'd fought with her about Robert, or the ones where he fought directly _with_ Robert... Or the ones where he fought directly with Robert and then fucked her to oblivion just after. Gods, she didn't remember the way he'd made her scream all those many times - as often as a couple of weeks ago, even. She didn't remember him telling her how much he loved her, or any of the things he did to prove it to her.  How could he tell her that? There was so much - their entire lives, and she remembered none of it. 

"Hey." She said softly seeing the dejection on his face. "What's wrong?"

Jaime looked back up at her. She was a stranger. A stranger he'd known since before he was born. A stranger who he'd touched all over. A stranger whose body he could map out better than he could his own.

Jaime shook his head. "Nothing." He said, faking a smile. "I'm just really glad you're getting out of here." 

Cersei smiled back weakly.

Jaime drove her home and walked with her into her house, following her around as she moved from room to room, afraid to leave her side. He didn't want to leave her ever again. He was convinced that if he’d been with her, the accident never would have happened and she’d still be _his_ Cersei. 

Cersei's brow was furrowed as she tried her hardest to recall ever walking the wide, opulent halls that surrounded them now, but for the life of her she couldn’t. 

They settled in the large marble kitchen and Jaime pulled out some of the groceries he’d picked up for her.  He cooked up some scrambled eggs and toast - breakfast for an early dinner. 

“Wine?” She asked when he placed the plate in front of her. 

His heart leapt. _Cersei_. 

“Red or white?” Jaime asked cautiously. 

“Red.” Cersei said without hesitating. She was still there.

Jaime let out a relieved breath as he reached for handle of the wine fridge.  It was, of course, stocked only with red wine. He’s not sure what he would’ve done had she asked for white. 

He poured her a healthy glass, and then poured one for himself as he took a seat next to her at the breakfast bar. 

“Oh.” Cersei breathed after she took a sip. 

Jaime watched her, a slight smile on his lips. She was so perfect. 

“Ohhh.” She said again, drawing it out this time and closing her eyes as she leaned her head back, humming happily. 

Jaime felt his desire for her spark as it reminded him of the things he did to her that made her react the same way.  Her long golden hair fell forward as she brought her head back down and he wished he could draw it back and kiss her and be the reason for those beautiful sounds once more.  Instead, he bit his lip and fiddled with the stem of his glass. 

“I think if they put this in my IV I’d have come back quicker, she laughed, taking a bite of her scrambled eggs. 

Jaime flinched. It still hurt him that she’d been hurt. He didn’t want to think about it, especially when he didn’t have her back yet, not fully. 

“Do you remember the house?” He asked, hopeful. 

“Um… I might remember a little.” She said, lying because she could hear how desperate he was for her to say so. 

“Yeah?” He brightened up a bit. 

“So what do we do… for work?” She asked, changing the subject before he could ask her more. 

“Oh.” He said, looking down at his plate and pushing his eggs around. “It’s um… complicated.” He said, not particularly wanting to explain to her that she didn’t work directly for father the way she’d wanted to. 

She cocked her head. “I’ve lost my memories, Jaime, I’ve not lost my brain cells. I’m sure I can manage to understand.” She said, cooly. 

Jaime’s cock twitched. _Oh, Cersei._

He cleared his throat when he realised he’d been staring at her. “Of course.” He stammered. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that… father and I work in finance and investment. Robert was actually our partner. You’re in law.” 

“I’m in law.” She repeated, nodding. 

“You’re a barrister.” He clarified. “A brilliant one. Business law.” 

“And I work for father.” She said, nodding. 

Jaime grimaced. “Well…” He trailed off. 

“What?” She asked. 

“You don’t exactly work _for_ father.”

She stared at him blankly. “Who do I work for?” 

“You’ve got your own firm. It’s really successful. Father pulls you in when there’s a complicated case.” 

Cersei chewed her lip. “And why don’t I work for the company like you and Robert?” 

Jaime cleared his throat. He wouldn’t lie to her. It wasn’t fair. 

“Father never felt it was a good fit.” He said. “Same with Tyrion. You did want to - do want to?” He questioned it. “I always tried to get him to reconsider. He can be a bloody idiot, Cers.”

Cersei was silent for a while. She felt a rage within her that was strangely familiar, and instead of being upset by it, it felt comfortable.  To Jaime’s surprise she smiled at him. “I think I remember that.” She said. “Or being upset by it.” 

Jaime’s whole body shifted toward her, his arms reaching out like he might hug her, but he slapped them down on his legs before he could get too carried away. “That’s fantastic!” He exclaimed. 

Cersei leaned back in her chair, taking a long sip of wine and trying to hide a laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. She took another bite of her meal. 

“What was my favourite thing to eat?” She asked, trying to keep it light. “Like my guilty pleasure.” She lolled her head over to look at him, and found him staring at her. 

_Me._ He thought, but he shook himself out of it and sighed. “You liked chocolate. Like really dark _dark_ chocolate. The bitter kind that’s atrocious.” He stuck his tongue out and was delighted when she laughed. 

“And strawberry ice cream for some reason.” He laughed and shook his head. “Absolutely mad.” 

“Really?” She asked smiling brightly, and he couldn’t help but mirror it back. She was so beautiful and he’d missed her so much. 

“I picked some up for you, actually, if you want some after-“ He was about to suggest they have some after dinner, but she was already up out of her seat and heading for the fridge where she pulled out the ice cream. 

Jaime laughed out loud. He felt like it had been ages since he’d done that last.

“Chocolate’s in the cupboard, just there.” He told her, pointing. She retrieved it along with two spoons. She settled back in her seat and peeled the lid off the ice cream first, trying to dig into it with her spoon, but it was frozen solid. 

Jaime chuckled. He’d seen her do this too many times to count. 

“Here.” He said, taking the spoon from her. 

She sat back and watched Jaime push the spoon into the ice cream. She raised her brows as the muscles of his biceps flexed, peeking out of his white t-shirt. Her eyes scanned over him, settling then on his forearms as he scooped a spoonful out and turned to her.  She snapped her head up to look at him, blinking rapidly and blushing at having looked at her brother that way, unsure what had gotten into her. She must've bashed her head rather hard. 

“Here.” He said softly, bringing the spoon to her lips as he’d done so many times before. Oh, he wished she’d remember. 

Cersei opened her lips and looked up at Jaime as she pulled them back over the spoon, sliding the ice cream off and moaning, her eyes closing as she tasted it.  Jaime let out a sharp sigh, desire flushing his skin and stirring his cock.  She moaned once more before she opened her eyes and Jaime thought he might need to excuse himself, but he felt her hand on his wrist suddenly. 

“Chocolate.” She demanded. 

Jaime nodded, his mouth ajar as he quickly reached for the chocolate and unwrapped it for her, braking a piece off. She took it between her fingers and smiled sweetly at him. He felt his whole body tremble for her and he wished she’d let him feed that to her as well, b ut he was content enough to hear that little moan again as she enjoyed the taste and the way it melted on her tongue. 

She offered him the spoon. 

“Eh. Jaime said, waiving his hand. “I really don’t like it.” 

She laughed. “No. More for me.” 

Jaime smiled again and nodded, taking the spoon. That was very Cersei. 

He took great joy in the next half-hour or so, watching her enjoy her favourite foods between sips of wine and easy conversation. Even when the ice cream had thawed enough for her to be able to scoop it herself, she kept asking him to do it. He didn’t notice the way she looked at him as he did it, and she didn’t notice the way he looked at her as he fed her, but neither of them wanted it to stop.  Cersei felt incredibly guilty about it, but she chalked it up to having been cooped up in the hospital too long. It was nice to look at something so… beautiful. No, that wasn’t the right word. Gods, he was her _brother_! More like… It was nice to see strength. Life. That must be it, she figured. She was glad to be alive and she was appreciating the… life around her. 

When she’d had her fill of sweets though, she turned to Jaime. She had a million questions. 

“Do we have a mother?” She asked, figuring that they probably didn’t if she hadn’t been at the hospital. 

Jaime had known this would come up at some point. 

“We did.” He said, and he saw the disappointment on Cersei’s face. 

“She loved us.” He nodded, looking away from her to resist the urge to take her in his arms.  “She loved you, especially.” Jaime said. 

He pulled his phone out and scrolled through his photos until he found the one of the two of them snuggled in their mother’s arms. 

“She died when we were six.” He said. 

“Oh.” Cersei breathed, her delicate fingers curling around the side of his phone.  “Can I?”

Jaime released it and let her study the picture closely.  He saw her lips quiver, though she was smiling. 

“I look like her.” She said softly. 

Jaime nodded. “You really do.” 

She looked back up at Jaime. “How did she die?” 

Jaime grunted, not wanting to get into it, but she deserved to know. She deserved to remember. He wanted her back, _all_ of her, even the parts of her he wished were different, like her hatred for their little brother. 

“She died giving birth to Tyrion.” Jaime said, and he waited for the rage in her eyes that he always saw when their mother’s death was brought up. But he didn’t see it. He waited and waited as she kept looking at the picture, taking in all these new facts about her life, but he didn’t see that anger, all he was was sadness. And it broke something in him in a way he hadn’t expected it to. 

He cleared his throat and Cersei looked up at him, handing him his phone back as she saw how upset he looked. 

"This house is so big." She said, changing the subject, not quite sure if she'd done something wrong.

Jaime forced a weak smile and nodded. "You never liked it much."

Cersei was silent, waiting for him to continue. 

"It was Robert’s. He insisted on staying here."

"Was I angry about it?" She asked.

"You were." Jaime nodded. 

"Why did I stay?" She questioned him.

Jaime sighed. This was hard to talk about. 

"Sorry." Cersei said, misinterpreting his sigh as annoyance at all the questions. 

"No, no." Jaime corrected. "It's just... Complicated."  He leaned back in his seat. "You married Robert because father wanted you to."

Cersei was expressionless. 

"Robert's family - the Boratheons - they're quite wealthy. As much so as we are and father wanted a merger with them for the business. You were..." Jaime scowled as he tried to think of the least offensive way to say this.  "In a way you were part of the merger." He finally blurted out. "A way to ensure that our partnership was air-tight. It was fucked up, Cersei, and I fucking hated every moment of it."

Cersei chewed her lip, trying to digest everything. "So... But.... I agreed to it?"

Jaime sighed. "Yeah. You did, though father didn’t give you much of a choice if you wanted to stay in his graces. You did it for father. To make him proud and to hopefully get him to include you in the business. 

Jaime was leaning forward now, toward her, his elbow on the countertop, head resting in his hand. 

"You had a strategy - a plan. You always had something up your sleeve. You're really, really smart, Cers. And I supported you, always, because you always knew best. Every decision you ever made, I supported, but that one was different. I hated that one. I hated that you did that." 

Cersei wasn't sure what to say. She could almost _feel_ Jaime's anger at the situation.  "Are you glad he's dead?" She asked, referring to Robert.

Jaime didn't answer. 

"Tyrion. He was happy about it." Cersei said, recalling how he’d burst into the room in celebration.

Jaime shrugged. "Robert tended to rub people the wrong way."

"How long was I married?" She asked. 

"Seven years. Three months." Jaime answered perhaps too quickly, though Cersei didn’t seem to notice. 

She nodded, and looked around her. She thought about the large, empty house and imagined how lonely it must have been. 

"We didn't have children." She stated it. 

Jaime looked away quickly and ran his hand through his hair.  "No children." He said softly. 

"Why?" She asked. 

Jaime cleared his throat and straightened up. He wasn't going to lie to her, but he didn't want to bring it up now; how she'd had a miscarriage nearly seven months into her pregnancy with Robert's child. He was afraid to bring it up. It had nearly killed her then. 

"Cersei, I... I..." He couldn't bring himself to tell her of how broken she'd been. How afraid she'd been to try again. How she'd nearly drunk herself to death, poisoned herself with pills in an attempt to numb the pain. He didn't want to give that pain back to her. Everything else he supposed he could, but that one.... Maybe she was better off without it. At least while she could be. 

"I'm sorry." He said. "I just didn't really... We never really talked about stuff like that."

"Oh." Cersei said, slightly disappointed. “Ok."

The twins sat there for some time, the silence seeming to be building a wall between them, before Cersei, yet again, spoke up. 

“I’d like to take a shower, I think. Get to bed.”

Jaime nodded. “I can show you where everything is.” 

* * *

The twins walked silently through the dark halls of the house past all the many guest rooms as empty as each of them felt at the moment.  Cersei chewed her lip as she peeked into each one, following just behind Jaime.  When they reached the end of the hall, he opened a door.

“I thought there was a bathroom in my bedroom.” She said, confused as to why they were in another wing of the house. 

Jaime nodded. “There is. You like this one better.” Then he paused for a moment as he switched the light on. “Liked.” He added. “If you don’t anymore, that’s alright, I just thought…” He trailed off and cleared his throat.  “You have lots of shampoo and conditioner and soaps in here. I can bring some to the other bathroom if you’d rather.” 

Cersei had walked past him and was investigating all the concoctions on the various glass shelves. 

She picked up a few bottles, reading the labels and then opening a few to sniff them. “I do have a lot.” She breathed. 

Jaime nodded. “Lavender was your favourite.” He’d said it almost guiltily, and she looked back at him, staring for a moment and then nodding. 

“Thank you.” She said softly. 

He was looking down at his feet.  There was another long moment of silence before Cersei spoke again.

“I do like this bathroom better.” She said, and Jaime looked up at her, trying to keep his feelings at bay. 

She picked up a bottle of lavender lotion. The one made of green glass, that he’d bought for her when he’d been in France on business. She pumped a bit into her hand and rubbed it in with the same circular motion that she’d always used. The scent nearly drove him to tears on the spot.

Cersei smiled weakly. “And I do like lavender best.” She said. And it was true.

Jaime exhaled shakily and just stared at her for a moment before nodding and backing out into the hallway.  “Towels are there.” He said, gesturing to the little closet within the bathroom. “I’ll be in the guest room down the hall if you need anything, and uh… if not… then I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Cersei.” 

Jaime had turned and made his way back down the dark hall before Cersei could say it back. She stood there for a moment just staring at the spot where Jaime had stood before moving to close the door.  She turned the water on, feeling so cold suddenly now that he was gone.  She stripped her clothes off and stared down at her body, covered in bruises, various colours of purple and yellow and brown scattered across her skin. 

Who was she?

She felt so very alone.

She stepped into the shower and buried her face in her hands, beginning to sob, letting the water hide her tears and letting the sound of it cascading over the blindingly white porcelain muffle her cries. 

Jaime made his way to the guest bedroom and shut the door, slipping into the en suite bathroom quickly and pacing around a few times before driving his fist into the tile, biting his lip to keep himself from cursing too loudly. He hit the same spot again and again until his knuckles bled, and then he rotated his fist and hit the tile with the side of it instead of the front. 

When his hand ached enough to take his mind off the searing pain he felt in his chest, he leaned against the cool tile and sank to the ground, pressing his face into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, and he let the hot tears he’d been holding back flood over.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” Jaime asked, his eyes skimming over Cersei’s lean form as she made her way into the kitchen. She wore her robe still, and Jaime certainly wasn’t complaining at how little it hid of her body. It was nearly nine-thirty in the morning, which was later than she usually slept. 

Jaime had been about to wake her. They had Robert’s funeral at eleven. Jaime had pushed to have it moved at least a few days later to give Cersei some time to re-acclimate, but the Boratheon’s were eager to put Robert in the dirt. Jaime scoffed as he’d thought about it. Stannis and Renly were likely celebrating that their shares in the company had jumped significantly. Not that Jaime cared. Good riddance. 

Cersei shrugged as she took a seat at the breakfast bar, and Jaime set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast with spinach in front of her. 

She looked up at him, surprised. “Jaime, you did not have to do all this.” 

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Plus, this is going to be a long day, so I thought you should have something besides strawberry ice cream and chocolate in you.” He smirked at her. 

Cersei smiled her thanks and picked up her fork. 

“I have to talk to you about something.” Jaime said, leaning on the counter. 

Tywin had called Jaime late last night briefing him on the situation at hand. 

Cersei looked at him expectantly. 

“They - uh… father wants you to say something at the funeral today.” 

“Say something to whom?” Cersei asked, taking a bite of toast. 

“No. Like…” Jaime winced. “Like make a speech.”

Cersei nearly choked on her food. 

“Jaime.” She looked up at him. “I don’t remember him at all. I don’t… I won’t…” Her face grew flushed and Jaime could almost hear her heart hammering in her chest. “What am I supposed to say?”

Jaime ran a hand down her back in an effort to calm her, but she looked up at him and pulled away slightly, so he let his hand fall away, embarrassed that he’d thought she’d want his comfort like that.

“Father had something written up for you, you’d just have to read it, that’s all.” He told her. 

“But won’t everyone know I’m faking it?” She asked. “Won’t they know I don’t remember anything?” 

Jaime shook his head. “Father hasn’t told anyone.” 

“He hasn’t told anyone?”

Just as Jaime was about to explain further, the doorbell rang, and Jaime left to answer it, already knowing it was Tywin. 

The man marched straight into the kitchen and slapped a manilla folder down on the counter in front of Cersei, who blinked up at him. Even now she refused to be intimidated by him. 

“I won’t know who I’m even speaking to.” Cersei said, before Tywin had even opened his mouth to talk. 

“You’ll be speaking to the crowd, and that’s just about it.” Tywin informed her. “Jaime will make sure of that.” He looked over at Jaime who nodded at Cersei. 

“I promise, you won’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to, Cers.” He said softly. 

“And you will certainly not mention your… current predicament to anyone at the ceremony.” Tywin said, cooly. “We’ve had enough scrutiny after the crash, the last thing we need is for this to get out as well.”

“I think people might understand if-“ Jaime began to try and reason with his father, but Tywin cut him off.

“ _People_ will take advantage of her, is what they’ll do.” He said. “The newly widowed daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the world can’t remember her own name?” Tywin scoffed.

“ _People_ will be lining up trying to get a piece of her. And don’t even get me started on the new batch of bloody rumours that would churn out.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched at his father’s bluntness, and also the idea of anyone trying to take advantage of his sister in any capacity. But knew it was true. He had to protect her. 

The men turned their heads when they heard Cersei begin to laugh. 

“I told Jaime last night, _father.”_ It was funny saying the word when it had no meaning to her at all. 

“I’ve not lost my brain. I think I’d be able to judge for myself if someone were to act untoward, just as I had before.” 

Tywin raised his eyebrows at her. “What about Jaime?” He asked, “You woke up in a hospital with no recollection ofwho or where you were and yet you trusted Jaime on the basis of what? Because he claimed to be your brother? How did you judge him to be truthful?” 

Cersei saw his point, though she hated him for it. But she’d just known Jaime could be trusted. There was something inside of her that knew he could be, but she couldn’t find the words to explain it, so instead she said, “He had pictures of us from before.”

She saw the flaw in her logic as soon as she said it, and Tywin, of course, pounced right on it. 

“You’ve had photo ops with thousands of imbeciles, Cersei.” Tywin shook his head. “You will do why I say and this will be as painless an experience as possible for all of us.” He said. “Surely you wouldn’t rather stand up there and explain that you’ve no concept of who you are.” 

“No.” Cersei said quietly, looking defeated enough to make Jaime clench his fists. 

“Very well then.” Tywin said, satisfied. He pushed the envelope closer to Cersei. “Now go make yourselves presentable, the both of you.”

* * *

Jaime had changed quickly. He’d brought a suit over Cersei’s for the occasion, though, truthfully, a suit felt too somber for the day. He figured he should be wearing something brighter, more exuberant, to celebrate the death of the man he despised most in the world. 

He was sitting on his bed looking through old photographs on his phone. He’d just been paused on one of Cersei curled up in his bed sleeping as the light of the morning flooded through his windows and bathed her in gold to match her hair. She was naked, and Jaime knew her body by memory, but he appreciated the way the comforter played at her nudity, showing only her bare shoulders and the length of her leg as it poked out from under. She’d looked so beautiful and so peaceful in that moment that Jaime couldn’t help himself immortalising it. After he’d taken that picture, he’d climbed back into bed and let her know just how beautiful he thought she was. 

“Jaime?”

Her voice pulled him out of his memories as he closed the photo app quickly and looked up from his spot on her bed.

“I’m here!” He assured her, “Are you alright?” 

When she didn’t answer, he rose and quickly moved to the closet door which was slightly ajar. He knocked on the side of it.

“Cers?” He asked, voice gentle. “Are you ok?”

“I need you to help me.” 

Her voice was quiet, its normal vitality sapped. She sounded diluted. 

“What do you mean?” He asked. “Can I come in?” He hated having to ask.

Instead of bidding him in, Cersei appeared at the door, pushing past Jaime, unable to meet his eyes. 

His first thought was how beautiful she looked. He’d imagined her on this day before; strong and ferocious, ravenous for him, for _them._ Triumphant. Victorious, finally. He’d imagined fucking her - well… he’d imagined her fucking _him_ on the day she buried Robert just as she’d done on the morning she’d married him. 

And she looked just as he’d imagined too; her long golden hair flowing over her shoulders, the black dress she wore a halter top with lace over the back and down the sleeves, a dark collar snapped tightly around her neck and the hem of it cut perhaps just slightly too short for a funeral, but the incandescent green of her eyes dared anyone to object.

“You look…” Jaime’s voice was shaky as he wracked his brain for a family-friendly word for her as a number of less _appropriate_ ones came to mind. 

“…great.” He said, wincing at the way it sounded so _painfully_ substandard. 

Cersei gave him an annoyed leer, which sent a bolt of electricity through him, before she turned her back to him and held her arms out in demonstration. 

“Oh.” Jaime breathed, all the fire she’d ignited in him extinguished at once.

The dress was sheer lace in the back, leaving almost all her skin from the curtain of her hair to her waist visible through the thin black veil of fabric. There were bruises on her back, deep, dark, purple bruises that looked painful. 

“Oh, Cers.” He sighed.

Cersei turned toward her vanity, digging around in a drawer until she found a vial of coverup and held it out to Jaime. 

“Help me hide the evidence.” She joked darkly, handing him the glass vial. 

Jaime forced a small smile, but he was broken inside. He’d imagined this differently. He’d imagined he would be helping her hide a different type of evidence; a knife perhaps, or a gun. Robert’s bloodied body even, if they were to be exceedingly dramatic, or, at the very least, bruises left by him - his lips on her neck. But no. This was what they had now. Broken memories and bruises for all the wrong reasons. Robert had taken everything else.

Cersei turned her back to him again, unsnapping the collar of her dress so he wouldn’t get any makeup on her, but holding the fabric at her chest so it didn’t fall lower. 

“Can you get the buttons?” She asked. 

Jaime swallowed hard and nodded, though Cersei couldn’t see him with her back turned, so he added an “mh.” Trying to sound indifferent. 

He went slowly, trying to hide the tremble in his hands as he unsnapped buttons one by one down her back and brushed the delicate lace of her dress aside to reveal her velvety skin. Even marred by cuts bruises she was far and away the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

When he’d gotten her dress unbuttoned, Jaime unscrewed the cap of the vial rather clumsily as his eyes drifted across Cersei’s bare back. He felt so many different emotions warring in his mind, but he settled on hurt. He was hurt because she was _hurting._ And he should have been there to stop it. 

He pounded the vial into the palm of his open hand, allowing some of the sticky makeup out of its container. 

“Cers.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not… I’ve never done this… I don’t know if you want… _me_.” 

The words hurt to say. They burned his tongue as they slithered out of his mouth. 

“Shall I call for father in instead?” She asked over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t get the feeling he’d be too keen on playing makeover.”

Jaime bit his lip. _Gods,_ there were moments when he’d swear she was here with him, just exactly as she’d been before. 

“No.” Jaime sputtered, trying to force a laugh. “I can… I got you.” 

He set the vial down on the dresser and swirled his fingers through the liquid in his palm before placing them carefully on her back, over the purple of a deep bruise midway between her waist and shoulders.

She was warm. _So_ warm, and so very soft, just as he remembered. It took everything he had not to press himself against her and hold her there, burying his nose in the crook of her neck and breathing in her scent. 

But he didn’t. He moved his index and middle fingers in slow, gentle circles over the purple, blending the colors into something which, with the help of the thin lace barrier, would pass as her normal skin tone. It wouldn’t have been odd, Jaime thought, for Cersei to have bruises. Everyone had known she’d been in the accident as well, but if she didn’t want people to see them, then he’d help her hide them. Cersei never did like anyone to see her wounds. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle.” Cersei said, her head angled downward as she felt her brothers fingers smooth over her neck. It made her uneasy, how gentle he was being, and she wasn’t sure why. It gave her gooseflesh, and Jaime chalked it up to the cool feel of the makeup. 

“It’s fine.” Jaime said gruffly. “I don’t want it to hurt.” He chewed his lip for a minute more, trying his best to stay focused on the task at hand. “There.” He said, taking his hands back and rubbing them together. 

“How does it look?” Cersei asked, pulling her dress back up. 

“Let me button it.” Jaime said, moving toward her again and pulling the fabric together, snapping the buttons closed before standing back to assess his work. 

“It looks good.” He said, nodding to himself. “It does, Cers. Nobody will know.” 

“Good.” She said, smoothing her dress out. 

“Do you want a picture just to make sure?” Jaime offered. 

Cersei shook her head. “I trust you.” She said softly as she breezed past him and back into her closet to pick out a pair of heels. 

When she emerged again, Jaime was back in his spot on the edge of her bed. He looked up at her and tried to hide his emotions. There really was a bit of everything swirling around inside of him; lust, anger, jealousy, disappointment, sadness, hopelessness and hopefulness, but love most of all. He loved her no matter how she came to him. He loved her in whatever capacity he was allowed and he was sure that he always would. 

“Come sit.” Jaime said, beckoning her over. 

Cersei sat next to him on the bed, and it was impossible not to think of all the times they’d been _together_ right there. 

Jaime pulled out his phone and went to Facebook. He showed her a picture of herself with the Boratheon family.

He offered the phone to her, and she took it in her delicate hands, zooming in on each face. 

“Those are Robert’s brothers.” Jaime said, referring to the two men in the photo who stood next to Robert. 

“That’s Renly, the younger brother, and that one’s Stannis.” He pointed them out to her. 

Cersei nodded. “Do I like them?” 

Jaime shrugged. “They’re not around all that much, so I think so. Robert barely spoke with them. I think they’re a little jealous that he inherited the company after their father died.”

Cersei raised her eyebrows, taking in that information. 

“I just thought it might be helpful to know.” Jaime said. “You’ll probably have to talk to them, but hardly anyone else, Cersei, I promise.”

Cersei nodded appreciatively. “Thank you.” She told him, and Jaime’s heart ached. There was a time when she’d have thanked him with a kiss. 

* * *

Tyrion made his appearance just as Cersei was finishing reading through the speech that had been forced upon her. 

“If this isn’t the biggest farce the country has ever seen I’ll go sober.” He mumbled to Jaime as they watched Cersei palm through the pages and stick her finger on a phrase. 

“I’m not sure this is something I want to say.” She called to Tywin who was busying himself with answering a few emails before they were picked up by their limousine driver. 

Tywin raised his eyebrows, not looking up from his phone. 

“He was a man of integrity. A man who will be sorely missed by all who knew him. He was the man I fell in love with so many years ago. A man who I’m not sure yet how to live without.” Cersei recited. 

Jaime felt the bile raising in his throat at the words and Tyrion nodded. “Well. That settles that.” And he made his way to the wet bar, pouring himself a glass of rum and downing it quickly. 

“You’ll read it as is.” Tywin said firmly. 

“I’m not going to say I’m not sure how to live without him, as if i’m some helpless child. That’s hyperbolic and contrived.” Cersei stood and Jaime’s couldn’t help the surge of pride that rushed through him. 

“If you’re so concerned with me appearing vulnerable then I’m not sure why that’s the angle you’re going for.” Cersei questioned her father in a way that wasn’t a question at all. 

Even Tyrion smirked. 

Tywin sighed deeply and shook his head. “We need the sympathy. We need vulnerability without weakness.” He said. “Robert was bloody _drunk._ He could’ve killed someone and you were right there with him, _complicit_ in his reckless idiocy. We need people to feel badly for you, not demonise you. It’s what’s best for all of us. You’ll do it for the family.”

Cersei had spat a rebuttal, but Jaime’s voice had drowned her out. 

“It was _not_ her fault.” Jaime fumed, his blood boiling at the fact that their own father would think such a thing. 

“We don’t rightly know what happened, but we do know what rumours have been swirling about so let’s focus on _fixing_ them before we allow a bloody _Boratheon_ to stain the Lannister name.” Tywin hissed. 

Jaime was about to protest, but Tywin received a call at that exact moment. The driver had arrived. 

The family piled into the limo and were off to the funeral. 

Cersei was in her head the whole way to the funeral, not seeing the way the Jaime watched her worriedly or the way Tywin eyed her menacingly. It wasn’t until they were nearly at the cemetery site that Cersei wondered if perhaps it might look funny pulling up in a stretch limo, but as they turned the corner to the cemetery, Cersei counted at least four other limousines.

They came to a stop and Tywin addressed his children. “Stay here.” He said, climbing out and making his way down toward the gravesite. 

Cersei turned and peered out the window after him. There were photographers snapping pictures of him and of their limo. She looked further into the cemetery and noticed a sizable party of people all in black, gathered around a casket. 

“That’s him.” Cersei breathed, referring to Robert. 

Jaime turned and looked out the window beside her. “Are you alright?” He asked.

Cersei nodded and turned back around, facing away from the funeral party. “What are the rumours?” She asked. 

Jaime shook his head. “They’re nothing. They’re ridiculous, really.” 

“Tell me.” She said so sternly that it took Jaime by surprise.

He stammered, seizing up as he tried to form the words, but she’d been _his_ Cersei just then and it had taken him so off guard that he needed a moment to collect himself. 

“They’re saying all sorts of things.” Tyrion told her, and the twins both turned to look at him as he sat leaned up against the leather seat of the limo, one arm slung up over the back of it while the other rested in his lap, his hand holding another glass of rum. 

“What sorts of things?” Cersei demanded.

Jaime’s eyes darted from his sister to his brother and back again. 

“Oh,” Tyrion sighed, “Where to even begin… They’re saying Robert was involved in some tax evasion scam, that he offed himself when it got out of hand, that he was murdered when it got out of hand, that _you_ murdered him,”

“That _I!-”_ Cersei scoffed, but Tyrion ignored her.

“That you were the one driving… shall I continue?” Tyrion asked, slightly amused. 

“That’s ridiculous. All of it’s just ridiculous!” Cersei shouted. 

“Is it?” Tyrion asked. 

“What are you saying?” Cersei hissed. 

Jaime’s jaw set. Where _was_ Tyrion going with this?

“Why would you get into a car with a clearly drunken Robert? You know how he was around alcohol. You’d have known if he was too drunk to drive, even if you were drunk yourself. You were always careful.” 

Cersei just stared daggers at her little brother, so he continued.

“And now… you’ve just forgotten all that happened that night and the bastard turns up dead.” Tyrion held his hands up. “Sister, I’m not _blaming_ you for anything. In fact, I’m here today to _celebrate_ the fact that Robert will no longer be gracing us with his beastly presence.”

He took a sip of rum and swirled the remaining liquid around in his glass. 

“All I’m asking is that I be let in on this little scheme as it’s in my best interest as this family’s public consultant to know the full truth before I can skew it just enough to make people believe something completely, albeit reasonably, different.”

Cersei gaped at her brother. “I can’t _fucking_ believe you.” 

It was the first time Jaime had heard her curse in quite a while and his head snapped over to her on instinct, though he returned his gaze to Tyrion quickly. 

“You’re mad.” He told his little brother. 

Tyrion smiled smugly and shrugged. “Some might call me that. But the rumours are already spreading, and through no fault of my own, so clearly I’m not the only one.”

He studied his sister’s face, looking for any sign that she might be hiding something. 

Perhaps, he thought, he should’ve gone to Jaime first, but he knew how defensive Jaime could be of Cersei. He figured he’d have more luck if he went straight to the source.

“Just stop.” Jaime said through gritted teeth. He was not above a cemetery-venue formal-wear wrestling match with his brother in the back of a limo if that’s what it were to come down to.

“All right, all right.” Tyrion relented. “But I’m just going to put it out there that the motive certainly was there, especially with the recent-“ 

“Stop!” Jaime shouted, and just as he did the limousine door opened to reveal their father.

“What are you all bloody children?” Tywin seethed. He’d heard Jaime’s voice from outside the limo door. “Gods, help us. Let’s go. Cersei, go straight to the podium to make your eulogy and we’ll stand for the burial and be on our way. We’ve gotten rid of all the press we could for now, but you know how they love to lurk, and the longer we’re around the more chances there are they’ll be back.” 

Cersei was glaring at Tyrion, who winked at her before downing the rest of his rum. 

As they walked toward the casket, Tyrion leaned in and whispered to Cersei, “Think crocodile tears, dear sister. Those have always looked impressively good on you.” 

Cersei made her way up to the podium just above the closed casket. She looked down upon it. It was deep black with golden trim, the Boratheon sigil stamped right on top, cutting into the wood grain. 

Cersei swallowed hard as she tried her best to avoid eye contact with all the strangers around her. 

The three Lannister men sat in the front row on the very end. Tyrion sat between Jaime and Tywin. 

Jaime leaned in to his brother. 

“What were you trying to accomplish back there? Do you honestly think she’s _pretending_ to have forgotten her entire life?” His whisper was sharp. He was furious. 

Tyrion shrugged. “It just doesn’t make sense to me.” 

Jaime scoffed. “She would have told me. She doesn’t remember _anything_.” He said.

Tyrion looked up at Jaime then, detecting the sadness in his brother’s voice, the sincerity. Jaime was no wiser than he himself, and if Jaime were no wiser than surely Cersei was telling the truth, no? She wouldn’t do that to Jaime.

Tyrion understood he sounded just as mad as the rumour mill. But it was his job to consider every possibility. It was the first lesson he’d leaned in the PR business. And Cersei hadn’t exactly been trustworthy in the past. The situation wasn’t something he’d put past her completely. 

Tyrion’s hypothesis had gone something like this; Robert had pushed Cersei to her limits at work and at home. Just before he passed, he’d convinced Tywin to hire a different law firm for all of Lanniscorp’s legal affairs, effectively shutting Cersei out of the family business. Tyrion had supposed it was possible that Cersei had simply had enough and killed Robert, either in the car, or just before, and she’d crashed the car with Robert in the driver’s seat to make his death look like an accident. Maybe he Robert hadn’t even been in the driver’s seat. There was no piece of information that money couldn’t alter. That had been the second lesson he’d learned, and he knew full well that Cersei understood that too. She could’ve paid the medical examiner off. Something else he wouldn’t exactly put past her. 

He figured the part where she was in the hospital had to have been mostly real, but the thought had crossed his mind that she and Jaime had conspired together to throw off all suspicions. 

He knew it sounded crazy, but that was his family. They _were_ crazy. The dramatics never seemed to end, nor did the rumours. And as the PR manager for the Lannister family, Tyrion had to consider _all_ possibilities, even if they made him sound like a bit of a tin-foil hat. That was what made him good at his job. He had to get out ahead of everything while he could. 

Tyrion realised that his theory was mostly unlikely, but it did serve to get a rise out of his sister, which was often when she was at her most vulnerable. _That’s_ what Tyrion was going for. A chink in the armour. Something about Cersei getting into a car with a drunken Robert still didn’t add up. She wouldn’t have done such a thing. Tyrion was sure of it. And he _would_ get to the bottom of it, not for the family, but for his own reputation. 

“Don’t bring up the law thing.” Jaime whispered, referring to the fact that Tywin had cut her out of the business. “She doesn’t know. She hasn’t spoken much about work. She doesn’t even have a new phone yet. I’m just waiting for the right time to tell her about it all.” Jaime said. It had only been a couple of days for Gods sakes. 

“Where’s her phone?” Tyrion asked. 

Jaime rolled his eyes and gave Tyrion a warning glance. “Shattered in the crash. It’s destroyed.” Jaime sighed, hating to think of it. 

Tyrion nodded, noting to himself that _shattered_ and _destroyed_ were not the same thing. He’d look into it. 

Tyrion was about to ask Jaime when exactly Cersei planned on returning to work, but his eyes were glued on Cersei now as she began Robert’s eulogy, the papers laid out in front of her like she was back in primary school giving a book report. 

Jaime watched her intently, spurring her on with his eyes. As she started, she mostly read directly from the sheet of paper, uncaring who might think it was rude. She was a _grieving widow_ for Gods-sakes, they’d cut her some slack and chalk it up to her emotional turmoil.

But as Cersei looked out at the crowd, she could see people whispering, sizing her up, judging her every movement. She even caught sight of a photographer snapping pictures from behind a tree some distance away. 

She fumbled her words. _Fuck. Focus._

Cersei found Jaime’s eyes, emerald meeting emerald and she felt a rush and then a wave of something akin to anger. She had no idea who these people were. How dare they talk about her behind her back. Jaime was her brother, and the only one who seemed to be honest with her. He was _real_ and he didn’t question her or judge her or make her feel as though she’d done something wrong. She took a shaky breath. She’d do this for herself and she’d do this for Jaime. Fuck everyone else.

She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered hoarsely into the mic. 

Just that little effort and she had the crowd eating from the palm of her hand. She continued mindlessly reading the words in front of her as if they meant anything to her, pausing every so often for a sniffle or to wipe at an eye. 

Jaime was smiling in the audience. He was grinning, actually. This was so very _Cersei_. She’d always been a master manipulator. 

When Tyrion caught sight of Jaime’s grin, he elbowed him sharply in the ribs. 

“Oof.” Jaime sputtered.

“Stop smiling.” Tyrion ordered through gritted teeth. 

Jaime wiped the smile from his face, and when he met Cersei’s eye again he could’ve sworn she winked at him. 

When Cersei got to the part she’s previously objected to, about not being able to live without Robert, she paused and cleared her throat. 

“It has been difficult.” She began, improvising. She saw Tywin’s eyes set alight with rage. “To move on from that horrific accident. My husband is gone. It’s the first thought I have as I wake each morning, and the last as I try and fall asleep each night.” 

Cersei drew in a shaky breath and thought of how frustrated she was that she’d been in that crash, how afraid she was waking up with no recollection of who she was. It had been terrifying. It was still terrifying. _There. Perfect._

The tears had come to her slowly, but they’d come, and she let them flow freely down her cheeks. 

In the audience, Jaime’s eyebrows were raised. He marveled at her ability to put on a show for the public eye, and Tyrion couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up in his throat. He forced a cough to tramp it down. 

Tywin was glad that the crowd seemed to be buying her little show, but he was still furious she’d gone off script. If she refused to fall in line, she was volatile, and he couldn’t have that. Especially when she didn’t remember what she could and couldn’t say or whom she could or couldn’t trust. 

“But life must go on.” Cersei said though her tears. “I know that’s what Robert would want.” She bowed her head and offered the audience a “thank you”, at which they all stood and applauded her. 

She backed away from the podium, still wiping at her eyes, still crying, and Jaime shot up from his chair and onto the small platform stage to help her down.

Moments later, the Boratheon’s and Lannister’s stood around the casket as a priest said a few words.

Jaime held Cersei with an arm slung around her waist, trying his best to look like a caring brother and nothing more. He figured that would be easy enough to pull off since it was mostly true at this point. 

Cersei appreciated Jaime being there. He helped her feel safe in front of this crowd of strangers. She just felt like, as long as he were there with her, nothing bad would happen. She took great comfort in the way he was holding her, his hand steady on her waist as if he were trying to keep her from falling. His body was sturdy and warm against hers, and when the priest mentioned the accident, Jaime’s grip on her tightened and she felt how the incident had hurt him. She felt his anger at it all raging inside of him. 

When the priest finished talking, a man handed her a black and gold shovel with soil already collected at the head. 

Jaime gave her a quick squeeze at her hip, and she eagerly threw the dirt on to Robert’s coffin, glad to be done with the whole affair. 

Jaime watched her, wishing the ceremony had meant more to her. She deserved that satisfaction. She was finally rid of Robert after years and years of emotional, and (Jaime was quite certain, though Cersei would never admit to it) physical abuse. He was gone from their lives, finally. She no longer had to pretend for Robert. They could spend nights together again, whole mornings, even! 

Except they couldn’t, because laying in the ground with Robert were all of Cersei’s memories. 

But Jaime would dig them out. He wouldn’t let Robert take any part of Cersei out of this world with him. He would find them and return them to her. He had to. Nothing else mattered.

“Cers.” Renly was the first to come up to her after the ceremony. He was young, but older than he’d been in the pictures Jaime had briefed her with. 

He held his arms out for her and she fell into them, allowing him to encase her in a firm hug. 

“How are you?” He asked. “You alright?” 

The concern seemed genuine, so Cersei offered him a smile and a quick nod. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She said, and then kicked herself because she was supposed to be grieving just the same.

Luckily, Renly didn’t seem to notice or care, and he nodded and ran his hands up and down her arms. “If there’s anything we can do, you’ll let us know?” 

“I will.” Cersei nodded. “And same to you.”

Jaime stood close by Cersei, letting her make the rounds with the rest of the Boratheons before ushering her away, back to the limo where they waited for Tyrion and Tywin to return. The whole affair was rather brief and Cersei was glad for it. 

“That was... you were...” again, Jaime searched for a proper word to describe Cersei’s masterful and seamless handling of the situation, but all the _appropriate_ words failed him. 

It mattered not, he realised, because Cersei wasn’t even paying attention. 

“Stannis didn’t come over.” She said, distractedly. 

Jaime was simply impressed that she remembered Stannis and Renly, let alone kept track of their movements. But this was Cersei. It was. He shouldn’t be surprised. 

“He was probably just distracted.” Jaime offered. 

Cersei shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Jaime wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but he decided against it. He also wanted to brush the hair back from her face, hold it behind her head in a fist and kiss her, hard. He wanted to tear the dress straight off her, kiss all those places she was hurting. He wanted to kiss every last place that Robert remained until he faded from her completely once and for all, and then he wanted to kiss all the places he knew that made her feel good. All the places that forced those lovely sounds from her, the places that made her scream his name and pull his hair and grab for his hands just to have something to hold on to. He wanted to be hers again. He needed it. He needed her. He thought about reaching for her hand in that moment and telling her everything, but he decided against that too. He couldn’t put that on her. 

Instead, Jaime reached out and ran a hand gently over her back. 

“I’m proud of you.” He said, trying to be brotherly. It was true, anyway. He was proud of her.

Cersei turned to him and her eyes fluttered over his form as she smiled softly. “Father will be upset.” She said, almost proudly, and Jaime had to smile at that. 

He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him as he laughed, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. 

“Yeah.” He said through his laughter. “Yeah, he will be.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like this chapter needed to happen before moving on with the rest of the story. Hope it wasn't too boring!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry this is coming so late! The world has been a bit of a nightmare lately which is why this took so long. I hope everyone is safe and well. <3

When Jaime awoke the next morning, he went about the routine same routine he’d often used to the past couple of days; a quick shower, dressing and then getting breakfast going before Cersei awoke. 

But he’d long finished preparing breakfast and Cersei still hadn’t come down. He began to worry, so he figured he’d go check up on her and make sure everything was alright. 

When he made it to her door, it was wide open. 

“Cersei?” He called for her, but got no reply. He entered her room and looked about; in the large walk-in closet, and the master bath, but she was no where to be found. 

Jaime set off about the house, calling her name, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. No Cersei. He began to panic. Should he call the police? What if she forgot where she was again and had just left?

Fuck, she could be anywhere, with anyone. What if she were in danger? What if she were hurt? Jaime pulled his car keys from the key ring by the front door, figuring he’d call the police and drive around a bit himself, searching for her. 

But just as he was about to open the door, it swung back, and there stood Cersei in black leggings, a tight fitting black athletic jacket, and trainers, her hair pulled back into a thick golden ponytail. 

The relief Jaime felt was so very welcome. 

“Fuck, where were you?” He asked, as his relief quickly turned to anger at her lack of consideration in telling him she was going out. 

She shrugged. “Went for a walk.”

“At what bloody hour?” Jaime asked, incredulously. 

“Early. I didn’t check. I wasn’t wearing a watch and I don’t have a phone.” She said, quirking her beautiful lips. 

Jaime tried his best not to let his eyes wander too much. She looked _so_ good in those leggings.

“We’ll get you a phone.” Jaime grumbled. “Especially if you’re going to pull stuff like that. How did you even know you’d be able to find your way back?” 

Cersei rolled her eyes. “I can retrace my steps, Jaime. I’m not a goldfish. My working memory is fine.”

She pushed past him and into the house. 

Jaime huffed. “Next time just tell me you’re going out. I was worried sick. I was about to call the police. 

Cersei stifled a giggle. “Yes, father.” She said, joking. 

Jaime bristled. “It’s not a joke, Cersei. I almost lost you. I _just_ almost lost you completely. Don’t do that to me again. I can’t -“ Jaime reigned himself in with a shaky breath. “Please just tell me next time, ok?”

Cersei was biting her cheek now. She hadn’t realised how upset this would make him. 

“Ok.” She said quietly, watching how his knuckles had turned white where his hand was gripping the door. 

“I made you breakfast.” Jaime said, trying his best to push past his emotions. “You must be starving.”

Cersei gulped. I actually got breakfast while I was out. She said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be making it again. I can have some a bit later for lunch.” She suggested, feeling badly for Jaime. 

Jaime waved it off, trying not to feel too pathetic. 

Instead, while Cersei went upstairs to shower and change, Jaime ate breakfast for two and reclined on the sofa in Cersei’s posh living room. 

He glanced over at the fireplace in the center of the room, the one with Robert’s bear skin rug laid out in front of it. Jaime scoffed at the gaudy thing, and then smirked as he remembered Cersei fucking him on it in front of a roaring fire while Robert was at a late meeting. It had taken her ages to convince him not to throw the monstrous thing into the fire, which had led to her eventually tackling him and provoking another round of sex on top of the hideous pile of fur. 

Cersei had no use for it now. He should get rid of it for her, but the more he thought about it, the less appealing the idea was. He hated Robert - would have been happy to banish every little piece of his property into the seven hells with the bastard, but he couldn’t stand the thought of throwing away the tangible bits of that memory with her. 

“Will you take me to get a phone today or shall I get the driver?” She asked from the large archway looking into the living room. 

Jaime’s eyes snapped up to meet hers.  She wore a deep blue fitted top with her hair drawn halfway up so Jaime could see the milky white skin of her chest, and light jeans with black wedges.  Jaime blinked up at her for a moment, trying to push all those thoughts he was having about her out of his mind before he spoke, lest she detect the unbridled desperation in his voice. 

“I’ll take you.” He said, clearing his throat for good measure.

* * *

Jaime drove carefully, though Cersei didn’t seem nervous at all. He supposed that made sense - she hadn’t been nervous in the limo, and she didn’t remember the crash, but somehow, being the driver - the one responsible for her safe passage from point a to point b, made him uneasy now. He never wanted to see her hurt, and Gods help him if he were ever the reason for it. 

"When can I start to drive myself again?" She asked. 

Jaime tensed. He wanted to say never. He wanted her to need him for _something_ , and he wanted to be there to keep her safe, but he knew he couldn't do that. And he certainly wasn't giving her enough credit. Cersei had always been more than capable. 

"I think they'll clear you next week at your follow-up." Jaime said, and Cersei seemed pleased with that answer.

“Did father say anything to you about yesterday?” Cersei asked, staring out the window. 

Jaime bit his lip. “He told me to make sure you didn’t talk to anyone.” 

Cersei laughed. “Anyone like … anyone?”

  
“Anyone that matters.” Jaime said, and Cersei looked over at him. 

“I’m not a liability.” She said. “You don’t need to babysit me. I don’t even know what I’d say that would be of any import anyway, I hardly know what you do for a living.” 

Jaime didn’t answer her, just kept his focus on the road. 

“If that’s why you’re here, I mean…” She said, “you don’t need to be.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked, trying not to let his voice tremble. 

Cersei looked back out the window. 

“I like having you here.” She said. “But you have your own life, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to take care of me.” 

“I know you don’t need me, Cers.” Jaime sighed. “You’ve never needed anyone. We all know that.” 

Cersei pretended to inspect her cuticles. She supposed she could use a manicure. 

“But if you like having me, I want to be here.”  Jaime felt his face grow hot. “I’m just glad you’re ok and I want to help in whatever way I can.” He said. 

He didn’t tell her that he _needed_ to help. That he _needed_ to make her remember. 

Cersei seemed to accept that answer.  “Maybe I could fact check some things with you, then?” She asked. “So I know what not to say to people.” 

Jaime smiled slightly and gave her a nod.

“Lanniscorp is an investment company. We make money by _giving_ money, which means we need clients.” 

Jaime nodded and Cersei continued. 

“Stannis and Renly worked for Robert. For their own company. What was it?”

Jaime nodded again. “StormsEnd. When he merged with us, part of the agreement was to keep our name. StormsEnd is a bloody stupid name anyway.” Jaime said, cringing.

“Father’s afraid Stannis and Renly will take Robert’s clients as their own now that he’s gone.” 

Jaime looked over at her. She’d worked that out quickly. “Yes.” He told her. 

She nodded. 

They were silent for a moment, before Cersei said. 

“He used to hit me. Robert”

Jaime was so caught off guard he nearly swerved out of their lane. 

“Cersei.” He coughed. 

“Tell me.” She said firmly, unwavering. 

Jaime clenched his jaw. “I don’t know.” He told her honestly. “Why do you think that?”

“I dreamt of it last night.” She said as Jaime pulled into the parking lot of the mall. 

“Cers.” Jaime breathed, reaching for her hand. 

She withdrew it, and it hurt Jaime more than he could say. 

“We were in the hall, shouting about something, I don’t know what. He was so bloody loud and then he grabbed me at my…” She swallowed, clearly more disturbed than she was trying to let on. 

“He grabbed my throat and pushed me against the wall and I saw his fist and then… I woke up.” 

She shook her head. “It just felt real. It felt so real and I don’t know why I would have dreamt that just randomly.” 

“Is that why you were up early?” Jaime asked quietly.

Cersei’s silence was enough of an answer for him. 

Jaime didn’t mention that the old Cersei would never put stock in something so abstract as _dreams_ … Or maybe she just wouldn’t tell him about it. 

Jaime couldn’t say if that were true or not - if it had actually happened, because Cersei never would have told him if it had. But he owed it to her to tell her what _he_ knew. 

“I thought he might have been.” Jaime said. “I asked you once but…” Jaime shook his head. 

_Fuck, he hated himself. How had he let that happen?_

Cersei shrugged. “It was just a dream.” She said softly, understanding that Jaime was as upset by this as she was.

“You can wake me.” Jaime said gently, white knuckling the steering wheel even now that they were parked. 

Cersei looked up at him, green eyes aflame, and Jaime looked away quickly. He couldn’t look her in the eyes without imagining the things Robert had done to her. 

“If you have nightmares like that… Or if you can’t sleep.” Jaime said, staring at the fuel gauge. “Or if you want to talk... or... for any reason at all. Please wake me.” 

“Ok.” Cersei said, sounding slightly unsure, before reaching out and touching Jaime’s arm. He flinched and Cersei immediately regretted the action, withdrawing her hand quickly. 

“No, I-“ Jaime tried to explain his reaction, but Cersei was already climbing out of the car. 

Jaime whacked his hand hard on the steering wheel. _Fuck._ He swore to himself, before quickly following after her.

They got Cersei set up with the newest, finest phone money could buy, and she seemed satisfied and unworried, like her nightmares were already a thing of the past. 

“I want to look around a bit.” Cersei said, slipping her phone into her purse and walking away from Jaime without a second glance. 

“Hey!” He called, following after her. 

“You don’t have to follow me around, Jaime.” She said over her shoulder. “I think I just want some time on my own.” 

Jaime didn’t like the idea of it. 

“Maybe you could help me pick out some clothes?” He suggested, falling into step beside her. “I need at least a new suit.” 

Cersei sighed, uninterested, and Jaime deflated. He desperately wanted to be with her. He _needed_ to be. He was terrified of what would happen if he let her go.

“Please, Cersei.” He said quietly, pathetically. 

Cersei sighed again, deeper this time. “Fine.” She said. 

* * *

They popped into one boutique after another, Cersei mostly focused on shoes. She bought a pair of sinful looking Louboutins and some strappy sandals, both of which Jaime was excited to see on her. 

Jaime took her bags, carrying them for her, a gesture which Jaime could tell hadn’t been expected. He hoped it didn’t seem like too much. 

They’d eventually gotten around to shopping for Jaime, and Cersei sat outside the dressing room while Jaime tried on shirt after shirt, with tie after tie and pant after pant. Cersei would veto what didn’t look good on him. She was quick to decide, and Jaime was glad to see that because Cersei’d always known what she’s wanted almost immediately. There was no waffling, it was either a yes or a hard no. It turned Jaime on if he were being honest. And he especially liked having her look at him, even if it weren’t the way she’d used to. At least her attention was on him. 

But when he stepped out of the dressing room to model a blue polo with a pair of black dress pants, only to see Cersei talking to a tall, dark haired man standing outside the dressing room beside his, he grew hot with jealousy. 

“I like the green tie.” Cersei said. “Not the blue. Green goes better with you eyes.” 

_She was looking at his eyes?_

Jaime ran his hands through his hair as he watched the man smile at her. 

“Yeah? All right.” He said. “And the shirt?” 

Jaime watched Cersei’s eyes scan over his body. 

Had she done that to him? Looked at him that way? 

“It’s nice.” She said, shrugging. 

The man nodded. “Nice. But not what you’d pick out.” 

Cersei smiled softly. “Does it matter what I’d pick out?” 

The man smiled back, dimples showing. “If I were lucky enough to meet you out at a bar, I'd like to make a good impression.” He said, winking at her. 

_He actually winked at her. What a lunatic._

But then Cersei laughed. 

This was not happening.

Jaime cleared his throat loudly and both Cersei and the mystery man turned to face him. 

“Oh.” Cersei said, deadpan. “This is my brother, Jaime.” 

“Oberyn.” The man said, extending his hand.

Jaime just stared at him for a moment, making him wait before taking his hand and shaking it wordlessly, his lips drawn in a tight line. 

“I was just employing the expertise of your brilliant sister.” The man said, his voice deep and velvety as he looked at Cersei, who smiled up at him. 

_Fuck, I wanna punch this guy_ Jaime thought. 

“Yeah, uh, Cers, we actually have to get going.” Jaime said, pulling up his sleeve and pretending to be alarmed at the time on his watch.

Cersei cocked her head. “Do we?” 

“Yeah.” Jaime shot back, “I forgot we’re meeting Tyrion in half an hour.” 

The man waved his hand in the air. “Don’t mean to hold you up.” He said, “My apologies. But perhaps I can give you my number and we can discuss your brilliance further over dinner and drinks.” The man said to Cersei. 

Cersei was blinking up at him, her long lashes fluttering. 

_She’s not supposed to be looking at him that way._ Jaime thought to himself, his jaw clenching. 

Cersei gave a quick nod, and the man handed her his business card. 

“I hope to hear from you soon, Ms. _Cersei_.” He drew her name out, smirking before turning on his heel and heading back into the dressing room. 

Cersei stared after him for a moment before Jaime cleared his throat again and she looked over at him. 

“That’s nice.” She said, motioning to his shirt, but Cersei seemed distracted, fingering the business card in her hand. 

He huffed and retreated grumpily to the dressing room, stripping and changing back into his own clothes. They checked out quickly, Jaime desperate to get out of there before they had another encounter with Prince Charming.

Back in the car, Cersei turned to him. “Are we really meeting Tyrion?” She asked.

Jaime shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it, but maybe we can all get drinks.”

Cersei scoffed. “Gods.”

“What?” Jaime asked sheepishly. “There was a strange man flirting with you I thought you’d want my help getting out of the situation.” 

“Did it look like I wanted to get out of the situation?” She asked. 

Jaime shrugged. “He looked like an asshole.” 

“He was _nice_.” Cersei shot back quickly. 

Jaime shook his head. “He’s not your type.” 

“Oh no?” Cersei asked, eyebrows raised. “Do clue me in on what my type is then.” She rolled her eyes. 

She was honestly sick of people telling her things at this point. She didn’t feel like she was getting the full story from anyone and there was no way they could tell her who she did or didn’t find attractive. 

Jaime dug his fingernails into his palm. “You know what?” He said, shortly. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because you can’t see anyone right now anyway.” 

“Says who?” She seethed.

She was sick of that too - people telling her what she could or couldn’t do. She wasn’t a child. 

“You’re supposed to be grieving!” Jaime shouted. “You just got out of hospital! You just lost your husband!” 

“One who I don’t have any recollection of!” Cersei shouted back. “Who used to smack me ‘round because he bloody well could.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know what happened! You don’t even know who you are!” 

Jaime hated himself the moment those words rolled off his tongue. He was furious and he was jealous. He was acting out of anger that she hadn’t told him about Robert and jealousy that she was looking at someone other than him. She was meant to be _his_ , but everything he said just he knew would only push her further away. 

He expected her to shout something acerbic back at him. He deserved that. He wished she would. Old Cersei would've smacked him. But new Cersei didn’t do any of those things. She turned in her seat so he could no longer see her face. “Take me home.” She demanded, her voice subdued. 

“Cersei, I’m sorry.” Jaime said gently. He truly was. He reached out, touching her shoulder just as she’d done to him earlier, but it was her turn to flinch away this time. 

“Home.” She said harshly. 

And so that’s where Jaime took her. 

* * *

She’d been upset she’d been treated like a child, so she supposed it was somewhat ironic when she got home that she’d stormed up to her room and locked herself inside like some scornful teenager, but she couldn’t be bothered with irony right now. Her room was becoming a bit of a refuge. She threw her bags into her closet and let herself crash down onto her bed, tugging a pillow against her chest as she felt the hot angry tears stinging her eyes. 

She thought about Jaime, how upset he likely was. He had a lifetime of memories with her that meant nothing to her now. It would be hurtful. It would be gut-wrenching. 

And then there was the undercurrent of mystery around her home life. If Robert had been so awful to her had she really not told _anyone_? Why would she have done that? Surely she hadn’t cared about being part of Lanniscorp _that_ much, had she? 

“Cersei.” Jaime’s voice was low and muffled through her door. Gods, this was _her_ house, why was _she_ the one locked away?

She knew the answer to that - she hadn’t the heart to order her brother to leave. She was afraid he would. She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t think she could handle it - being in this big empty house all on her own. And at least he could offer her some answers. He was trying. She knew he was. 

“I don’t want to talk.” Cersei said, getting up and moving to the door so she didn’t need to shout. 

“Ok.” She heard Jaime say softly. “Can I talk?”

“I’m not father.” She said, somewhat derisively. “I can’t tell you what to do.”

Jaime was quiet for a minute, and Cersei wondered if she’d upset him enough with that comment that he’d left. But then she heard him. 

“Can you open the door, at least?” He asked, plaintively. 

Cersei let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she was holding, waited a few more beats, wiped at her face, and then opened the door.

Jaime, who hadn’t actually expected her to open the damn thing had his arm out, leaning on it, so when she flung it open, he toppled forward, nearly bowling her over as he fell into her room. 

Cersei smirked a bit at that.

Jaime straightened up, running a hand through his hair, his cheeks reddening. “Thanks.” He said. 

Cersei nodded, and Jaime took stock of her. 

Her cheeks were rosy, her nose too, and her eyes were a little red. She’d been crying, if only just a little. It was still too much for him. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, softly. “I didn’t mean what I said.” He confessed. “I was angry at myself and I took it out on you.” 

Cersei studied his face for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest. 

She had the sudden desire to touch him. His arms, maybe. Or his hands. His hair? _Focus._ She told herself. 

“None of this has been your fault, Cersei.” He said, his eyes searching for something in hers. “Not father’s cutting you out of the business, not your marriage to Robert, not the accident. None of it. I need you to know that.” 

Cersei was distracted again at the sight of his jaw clenching. _Focus._

Jaime took a step forward. “I believe you. What you said about Robert… hurting you. I believe it. I believe you. And I hate it. I fucking hate it and I hate myself so much for not having done more. I was upset about that. I didn’t want it to be true, but I guess I’ve always known. You told me some things. I’d seen some others. Everyone knew he was a bastard. You just…” 

His hands were shaking as he searched for something to hold onto, but settled on nothing. He only wanted _her_. 

He tried to find a way to articulate how things had been, to make her understand. But he himself didn’t fully understand. Why hadn’t she told him? She hadn’t trusted him enough. She’d known he’d have killed Robert with his bare hands, and that would only have complicated things further. _Oh, Cersei._

“Maybe I was afraid.” Cersei offered, hating to see Jaime struggle so. 

“No.” He said immediately. “You weren’t afraid of anything, Cersei.” 

She met his eyes and the fire he saw burning within hers was enough to tell him that was true.

“I am afraid of something.” She said, and Jaime flinched at that admission. 

“Cersei.” Jaime breathed, his eyes softening. “You don’t need to be afraid of anything.” He said, stepping toward her, arm reaching around her waist. 

Cersei didn’t stop him, she allowed it to happen, complied as he pulled her close, pressed her cheek against his chest, ran his hand across her back. Cersei sighed deeply, feeling a strange sort of calm overcome her as all the tension she’d been housing in her body simply melted away. 

“What are you afraid of?” Jaime whispered, his cheek pressed to her hairline, exalted in the feel of her warmth and softness against him. 

Cersei swallowed hard, ran a hand up his back, feeling something ignite deep inside of her as she felt his muscles react to her touch. She listened to his heart beating in his chest, syncing perfectly with hers and felt almost as though if she pressed herself further against him, she could join herself to him. Meld them together. She _wanted_ that, she realised. It would feel _right_. And that was terrifying. She shuddered as she felt his hand run all the way up the ridge of her spine to cup the back of her neck. 

And then she took a shaky breath and breathed against his chest, not daring to look him in the eye and told him, “I’m afraid of who I was.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Tyrion had gone to the hospital stupidly thinking that they might still have Cersei’s phone there. Of course they didn’t. They didn’t give a flying fuck about her smashed up phone, and he felt idiotic for not already knowing that. 

He tried the police station next, where they were keeping the evidence from the crash. 

“The case is still technically under investigation.” The secretary had told him, and not even a cash bribe had been enough to sway her, so he asked to speak with an officer.

“The soonest I see us closing this case is next month.” She told Tyrion. “It’s not that we think there’s any wrongdoing, it’s just that we’re overwhelmed here and quite backlogged.” 

Tyrion nodded understanding. “It’s just that… my sister Cersei, well, she runs quite a large law firm, and consults with a number of well-to-do individuals as well as several of our nation’s largest and most prolific companies, and she has many _many_ important contacts and emails and documents on her phone that she no longer has access to because you’re well… backlogged.” 

The officer nodded. “I do understand the inconvenience Mr. Lannister.” 

“Tyrion.” Tyrion corrected, smiling. 

“Yes, well, I can assure you we will do all we can to get things moving as quickly as possible.” 

“Of course.” Tyrion nodded. “D’you suppose I could speak with the chief?” He asked. 

The officer sighed, but a few minutes later Tyrion was sat in front of the chief of police.

“Chief Seaworth.” Tyrion greeted the man, extending his hand across the cluttered desk before him. 

Officer Seaworth shook Tyrion’s hand warily. He was _always_ wary of Lannisters. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard of my brother in law’s tragic passing.” 

Officer Seaworth nodded. “My sincerest condolences.” He said, nodding. “Your family has always been good to us.” 

Tyrion nodded back. “We do appreciate all the important work you do to keep things… just.” 

Tyrion said, smooth as ever even as he was hiding his sarcasm. Nothing in this world was just. That was another important lesson he’d learned. 

“I’m here today because I was wondering if we could resolve my brother in law’s case.” 

Officer Seaworth raised his brow. 

“You see…” Tyrion continued, “My sister has had an incredibly tough time with all of this, and each day she’s home she’s reminded over and over of the emptiness there. She wants to get back to normal as soon as she can. She needs a routine or I fear… Well, I fear she won’t be _well_. You understand.” 

Officer Seaworth bowed his head. 

“She needs her phone back - that’s all. Just so she can get back to work.” Tyrion reasoned.

Officer Seaworth cleared his throat. “You know as well as I that the case is still open.” 

Tyrion narrowed his eyes at the man. “It was a car crash. Robert was drunk. There’s no reason to draw this out. Let’s close the case now. Get on with things. It’ll free up a bit of time for you.” 

“Mr. Lannister-” 

“Tyrion.” Tyrion corrected again with a sigh.

“Tyrion.” Officer Seaworth sighed - Lannisters really were insufferable. “We’re in the business of enforcing the laws here, not breaking them. No matter _who_ your father may be.” 

Tyrion left empty handed yet again, flinging open the doors to the station and storming out and to his car. _Fuck_. _What now?_

* * *

Jaime was in the kitchen making dinner when Cersei called to him from the hallway. 

“I’m going out for a while! Don't wait up!” 

Jaime lowered the burner on the stove and peeked out into the hall. 

Cersei was standing in front of the mirror at the door, fastening a dangly black earring to her left ear and smacking her lips together, checking her lipstick. 

She was wearing a black dress with a cut out just under her breasts, revealing a small diamond of her milky flesh. 

Her hair was down around her shoulders and her eyes were made up dark and fierce. 

“Wow.” Jaime couldn’t help the little omission as his eyes raked over her body. But he quickly corrected his and focused on her face. 

“Where are you off to?” He asked.

“Going out.” She answered him shortly. 

“Cers?”

She straightened up from the mirror and turned to look at him. “I’m going to a club.” She said. “With that guy, Oberyn. You met him the other day at the mall.” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember.” Jaime said, rolling his eyes. “Cers, people can’t see you out with random guys right now.” 

  
It wasn’t the main reason Jaime didn’t want her going out with that idiot, but it was the most valid. 

Cersei shrugged. “People grieve differently.” She said. “I highly doubt anyone will notice me, but if they do, they’ll just think I’m having a moment. It’ll be good press.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “Father should be thanking me for keeping us relevant.” 

“Cers.” Jaime took a step toward her. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s barely been a month. 

Cersei bit her lip. “I’m not going to let him stop me living my life anymore.” She said, fire in her voice. “He’s _dead_. He has no control over me or what I do.” 

Jaime could tell Cersei had thought long and hard about this. She hadn’t made this decision on a whim and she hadn’t taken it lightly. She wanted this for herself, maybe she needed it. He’d heard her up almost every night and figured she’d been having more nightmares about things Robert had done to her. 

  
He couldn’t imagine what that had been like for her, and he understood the desire to free herself now, to cleanse herself of him, but she was still his Cersei, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her going out with someone else. 

“Of course he doesn’t.” Jaime nodded, moving closer, still. “You deserve to do whatever you want with your life, Cersei. You deserve to have whatever you want.” He swallowed hard, “But please, for everyone’s sake, I think you should wait it out just a bit longer. If Tyrion finds out -“ 

“I don’t care.” Cersei stated firmly. “I don’t care what that imp has to say about it. He’s one of _us_ and he’s accusing me of _murder_. He’s going to believe whatever he wants, as is anyone else. I’m not going to live my life for them either.” 

Jaime bit his lip. He wasn’t sure how to argue this. He didn’t blame her. He wanted her to be happy. 

“Ok.” He said finally. “But Cers, you have to promise me one thing, ok?”

Cersei looked up at him skeptically. 

“Just promise me you’ll call me if you need anything.” Jaime sighed. “Just, please, Cersei. I - the last time you left me you almost didn’t come back.” He said, hanging his head. He knew he couldn’t keep her here with him forever. That wasn’t his intention, it was just scary to think of her out there alone, especially with a stranger. He didn’t know what he’d do if something were to happen to her again. 

Cersei’s expression softened and she stepped toward him, wrapping her arms about him tightly and nestling her head under his chin.

“I will, Jaime.” She whispered. “Thank you for understanding.” It meant something to her to have someone on her side, and she knew he worried. 

Jaime was breathless, taking a moment to relish in the feel of her; warm and soft and _perfect_ against him. 

“Ok.” Was all he could manage, as his fingers splayed out across her back. 

When Cersei pulled away, Jaime watched sadly as she slipped on her heels. 

“Cersei?”

She looked up at him, cocking her head. 

“You like this guy?” Jaime’s heart was beating out of his chest. 

She shrugged. “I’ve just met him.” She said. “We’ve been texting, but that’s all. I just want to do something fun. Something different.” She sighed. “I want to think of someone _besides_ Robert.” She admitted. 

_Think of me._ Jaime wanted to beg her, but instead, he nodded.

* * *

Tyrion pulled up to the club around ten that night, figuring the manager would be around for peak hours. 

He slipped inside, taking account of his surroundings. The entire place was bathed in a deep blue light, making the many figures around him almost unrecognisible from a distance. The music was pumping and there were plenty of people on the floor dancing and just as many, it seemed, at the bar. 

Tyrion crept around behind the bar and into the back without being detected (perks of being exceedingly short, perhaps?)

“Excuse me.” He said to one of the men at the grille behind the bar. “Where’s the manager?” 

The man looked surprised, but waved Tyrion on toward a door further in the back. 

Tyrion knocked and the door opened shortly after, revealing a small statured man with dark hair and dark eyes. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, not bothering to be worried how Tyrion had made it back there.

“Tyrion Lannister.” Tyrion said, holding his hand out to the man, whose grin was growing now as he realised who was standing before him. 

“Petyr Baelish.” The man said. “Do come in.” He stepped aside allowing Tyrion into his office. 

* * *

Cersei’s driver dropped her off right outside of the bar, pulling into the parking lot after to wait there.

Oberyn was standing just outside the door as she pulled up. 

He wore a deep red button up shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms and dark jeans with black leather shoes. 

Cersei admired him for a moment after they’d embraced. She ran her hand down his bicep and over trailed her fingers over the veins of his forearm, smiling up at him. 

“It’s nice to see you.” He said to her, flashing her a mischievous grin. “You look lovely.” 

Cersei smiled back, taking his arm as they made their way into the club. 

As soon as she was faced with the deep blue lighting, a uneasy feeling began to rise in Cersei’s stomach. 

Had she been there before? It was likely, she supposed, but she didn’t appreciate the anxious feeling that had overtaken her. 

“Drinks first?” Oberyn asked her, leaning down to brush his lips across her ear. 

Cersei nodded. _Please._

The two of them sat at the bar, talking about this or that, getting to know one another. Cersei was tight lipped about the family business (not that she was exactly a wealth of information anyway), but Oberyn honestly didn’t seem that interested in it. He did, however, prod her about her law firm. 

Cersei made up some answers on the spot, slightly impressing herself with the ease at which the lies sprung forth from her lips. 

For his part, Oberyn had his own stories about his family’s business, a resort chain with hundreds of locations across the globe. 

Cersei had just finished her third drink when Oberyn offered her his hand. “Shall we dance?”  
He asked, flashing her that same infectious smile. 

Cersei took his hand and he led her out onto the crowded floor, holding her at her hips and swaying with her to the music. 

* * *

“So you’re asking for our tapes?” Baelish asked, slouching sideways in his tall leather desk chair. 

Tyrion nodded. “Just the one from that specific night.” Tyrion said. “We want to cover all our bases. I’m sure as a business owner yourself, you understand the strategy.” Tyrion said, hoping to grease the wheels with a bit of flattery. 

Baelish cocked his head. “We do keep our tapes for two months.” Baelish nodded. 

“Perfect.” Tyrion said, “Who shall I speak to about getting them then, security?” 

Baelish leaned forward and shook his head. “I happen to have that tape right here.” He said, tapping on his desk. “And I’ve been waiting for one of _you_ to come around asking for it.” 

“One of _us_?” Tyrion asked.

“You _Lannisters_.” He nearly spat the name out. 

Tyrion leaned back, undeterred. “Well, here I am so… I’ll be happy to take it off your hands and compensate you for the merchandise, of course.” 

  
“Yes, yes.” Baelish said haughtily “Lannisters always pay their debts, don’t they?”

Tyrion nodded slowly, leery now. “That’s what they say.” 

“Well…” Baelish said, grinning gruesomely, “I think this tape is worth far more than the price of the merchandise.” 

* * *

Cersei had her back to Oberyn now. She could feel his heat pressed against her as he ground his body on hers, fingers splayed over her stomach. 

His lips were on her ear, whispering to her every so often, telling her things the he wanted to do to her. 

It was a bit forward for Cersei, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She was slightly aroused, she supposed, except… except no she wasn’t. She just felt like she _should_ _be_. She felt like she should be a lot of things right now, but really all she could focus on was the uneasiness in her gut and the glances she was getting from the odd person in the crowd. Had Jaime been right? This certainly was beginning to feel like a mistake. 

_Jaime_. 

She wished he were here now. She was sure he would help put her at ease. Having Jaime here would make her feel better, safer. 

It would be more fun. 

She wouldn’t mind dancing with Jaime. Not the same way she was dancing with Oberyn of course, because that would be… inappropriate, but… But she just wished he were here dancing with her instead. 

His hands wouldn’t feel quite so heavy on her, he wouldn’t be quite so pushy, his body would just fit against hers better. 

* * *

“What are you saying?” Tyrion asked Baelish, who was now sporting a smug grin, his arms crossed and his feet up on his desk. 

“I’m saying…” Baelish started. “I’m saying I’d like to strike a deal with you.” 

“A deal?” Tyrion inquired. “Over a CC-TV tape? I’ve no idea what’s on it, so I’ve no idea what value it has to me.” 

“I’ll show you.” Baelish said slyly, laughing to himself. 

He turned around the chunky white monitor on his desk to show Tyrion the screen and cued up the tape from the night Cersei had been in the accident. 

The familiar blue light of the bar was the first thing Tyrion saw, along with two dark figures at the bar. He squinted a bit, but it wasn’t overly difficult to tell that it was Robert and Cersei sitting there, having what appeared to be a less-than-civil conversation before Robert seized Cersei by the arm with such force that Tyrion actually winced. 

He wasn’t greatly fond of Cersei, but she was still his sister and it wasn’t easy to see her treated so roughly. 

He’d always known Robert had been rubbish. 

The camera showed Robert yanking Cersei out of the bar and then cut to the parking lot, where he dragged her to the car. Cersei was clearly using her full weight to resist him as best she could, but Robert easily overpowered her. 

He pushed her to the car and Cersei fought him, batting his chest, his face, anything she could do to try and free herself. 

Tyrion drew in a deep breath and held it, his hands closing into tight fists. This was not exactly what he’d expected. 

And when he saw Robert push Cersei back, smashing her head into the car, Tyrion jumped up in his chair, unable to contain his outrage any longer. 

Baelish paused the tape, still smiling, still so _fucking_ smug. Tyrion was seething at the way Robert had treated his sister. 

“Play it.” He growled, and Baelish obliged. 

Tyrion watched the last few moments as Robert stuffed Cersei’s limp form into the car and drove off erratically, clearly not in any state to be driving. 

Tyrion’s mouth was ajar as the tape cut. 

“So…” Baelish interrupted Tyrion’s racing thoughts. “Shall we discuss my terms?” 

* * *

Once Oberyn and Cersei had their share of dancing, he pulled her over to the side and leaned down to whisper in her ear again. 

“Care to continue things at my place?” He asked smoothly. 

Cersei bristled immediately. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she’d agreed to meet him, but the thought of going to his home seemed rather unappealing to her now… She wasn’t sure why, couldn’t place her finger on it. He’d been lovely, if not a bit overconfident, but never at her expense. 

She felt comfortable enough with him, he’d not tried to steal her family secrets like Tyrion or father would’ve feared, and he’d not prodded her too much about her personal life. 

Perhaps it was the bar? She’d been harbouring an ominous feeling all night since she’d first seen those deep blue lights, and she just wanted to get home to Jaime, where she knew he’d be able to quell whatever worries she had, where he’d put her hands on her and she’d be reminded that he was there for her, and where he’d whisper in her ear that she was safe and she’d know he’d make sure that was the truth. 

“Not on the first date, I don’t think.” She said, smoothly, pushing him back slightly by his chest. 

“Hmm.” Oberyn hummed, leaning in close to her. “I guess that means there will have to be a second date, then.” 

Cersei felt his breath on her lips. 

“You have my number now.” She told him, leaning closer, her lips all but brushing his. “You call _me_ this time.” 

And then she was pulling away, winking at him and sashaying toward the front door of the bar, texting her driver to meet her there as Oberyn smirked after her. 

She paused, though, as someone caught her eye. A figure that was hard to make out in the dim lighting, but his height, his short stature couldn’t be mistaken. _Tyrion?_

Cersei made her way quickly toward the door, but the figure had already slipped out the door and into the dark of the night. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey.” Cersei heard Jaime’s voice, gruff with sleep as soon as she’d closed and locked the front door. 

She turned to see him on the sofa under a knit blanket, the television on low in front of him. 

Cersei couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. He’d waited up for her. 

“Hi.” She responded softly, kicking off her heels unceremoniously by the door and padding over to him barefoot. 

“You didn’t have to wait.” Cersei told him as he sat up on the sofa, setting his feet on the floor to make room for her to sit beside him. 

“Here.” He said, draping the blanket over her bare legs. 

He held his arm out for her like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it felt like it. She settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Cersei’s head was swimming, her stomach filled to the brim with butterflies at the way Jaime felt against her. He was exactly what she needed, she realised, letting out a deep breath that she felt like she’d been holding all night. 

She blamed it on the alcohol, the way she grew lightheaded when he skimmed his hand down her bare arm.

And Jaime, for his part, was groggy with sleep and hardly able to grasp the full consequence of he was doing, just that it felt like something that he _should_ do. 

He leaned his head against hers, their hair falling softly together, blonde on blonde. 

“Was it fun?” He asked, wistfully. 

Cersei didn’t answer him, just wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling herself closer, feeling the warmth of him that she’d been craving finally.

It hadn’t been _not_ fun, but this was just… so much better. This was so much _nicer_. 

Maybe it was Oberyn. He’d been perfectly _nice_ , but it wasn’t this same ease she felt here with her brother. Was that weird? She tried not to think about it. 

“Are you tired?” Jaime asked. “I was watching this stupid show, I thought you might like it.” 

Cersei pulled back and raised her brow. “You thought I’d like a _stupid_ show?” 

Jaime laughed, his lips pulling back to reveal his canines, sharp and white and endearing, looking like a puppy dog with his sleep mussed hair in place of floppy dog ears.

Cersei pushed at his chest once, the hard wall of muscle stopping her, taking her off guard while he continued laughing. 

“I didn’t mean it like that I just thought… you know, lighten you up a bit.” 

“Oh, I’m not light?” Cersei asked, amused, pushing at him with both her hands now, leaning her full force into him and still not moving him a centimetre. 

Jaime laughed again, seizing her by her wrists and pushing her back so she was lain out on the sofa and he was over her, keeping her hands pinned over her head. 

“I stand corrected yet again.” He said, a dopey grin plastered across his face. “You’re _too_ light.”

Cersei laughed breathily, trying to ignore all the feelings that were flooding her, zapping her toes and rushing up her legs, tickling her low in her belly and fluttering through her lungs, making her heart beat double-time, rendering her throat hoarse as they travelled all the way up to her brain which felt all fuzzy. 

* * *

And for a moment the two of them were still, Jaime’s grin slowly fading as he realised what he was doing, and Cersei trying to decipher her senses. 

“Sorry.” He said finally, releasing her wrists and retreating back to his side of the sofa.

Cersei sat up, leaning on the arm of the opposite side. “I should probably go to bed.” She said, and Jaime just nodded, not looking up at her as she slowly stood and made her way out of the room and up the stairs. 

* * *

Tyrion lay in bed that night terrorized by the horrors he’d seen Robert commit against his sister. He tossed and turned and tried to cleanse his thoughts, just for the moment, just for the sake of a halfway decent sleep, but his efforts were fruitless. 

He sighed deeply and climbed out of bed, making his way into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of whiskey. 

He settled in his chair, phone in hand and thought long and hard about what he would say to father before finally pressing call. 

Tywin answered on the third ring. 

“What?” He spat, clearly not thrilled about being phoned in the middle of the night, but reachable, as always, if necessary for matters of business. Anything for the business. 

“I found a tape.” Tyrion said as if his father would understand. 

“Elaborate.” He demanded. 

Tyrion told his father of Baelish, of the tape he’d seen of Robert beating Cersei. And by the time he had finished, he could hear his father breathing hard on the other end of the line, rage emanating from him. 

“And what do you propose we do?” Tywin asked his son. 

“I think we give him what he’s asking for in exchange for it.” Tyrion said simply.

“Which would be?” 

“He wants us to fund his newest venture. A gentleman’s club. He’s had one separate from the club for some time, but he wants to make some uh… renovations.” 

“You’re telling me to fund a bloody _whore house_?” Tywin shouted, aghast. 

“A gentleman’s club.” Tyrion amended, wincing. He’d known this wouldn’t go over well. 

“I will not have my money and my name thrown in with his glorified brothels.” He snapped. 

“ _Think of something else._ ” He hissed, hanging up promptly. 

Tyrion shut his eyes, pressing his thumb and index finger into the lids until he saw little flashes of light. 

“Fuck.” He said aloud, taking a long sip of whiskey to burn the word back into his throat. 

He’d known his father wouldn’t go for it. He’d known that it wasn’t perhaps their best option, but it was the _easiest_ option, the _safest_. It was a way to make this all go away before it got out to the press. Then their reputation would surely be ruined. Forget about a gentleman’s club, this was graphic abuse by a one of the fucking _CEO’s_ of the company. This was the best way to protect their reputation, wasn’t it? Even if it meant tarnishing it just slightly by investing in Baelish’s new undertaking. And it was the best way to protect Cersei, whose well being was clearly not their father’s priority. 

Tyrion wondered if his father had known Robert had been like this all along. 

He spent a long while contemplating Cersei and her silence. His sister was not one to sit back and take things, so he wondered why he hadn’t heard of Robert treating her this way.

Had this been the first time it had happened? Unlikely. Robert had looked alarmingly practiced at what he’d been doing. 

Had Cersei been embarrassed? He supposed that could be a possibility. She certainly never liked to admit weakness. She was always convinced she could handle every little thing on her own. 

And then it dawned on him; Cersei was likely putting up with Robert for father. She’d always wanted to impress him, always acted with the family name in mind, just as he did. She wanted to do her part, that’s why she’d married him in the first place… but she hadn’t known what she’d been signing on for. _Oh, Cersei…_

And to think he’d actually had the audacity to blame her for Robert’s death. He’d done that right after she’d been beaten unconscious and shoved into a car with that fucking animal. Tyrion felt ashamed. 

And now there was no telling what she remembered. Should he remind her? Should he ask her about it, see if she could recall anything? Should he show her the footage? That didn’t seem like the best idea. 

And what of Jaime? He surely hadn’t known about this or Robert would have been dead long ago. 

Tyrion wished more than anything to confide in his brother on this issue. Jaime was normally his go to man to bounce ideas off of, but this just didn’t seem like something he could tell Jaime. 

On the other hand, maybe he deserved to know. Jaime’d always bloody _hated_ Robert, and he’d always had his concerns about him. He’d said something once along the lines of suspecting Robert of hurting Cersei, but Tyrion never imagined that it would be this bad.

“I don’t get paid enough for this.” Tyrion sighed, sinking back into the cool leather of his armchair. 

* * *

Jaime knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be, but he was. 

“Come on!” Cersei laughed, a glass of wine in hand as she leaned back against the lip of the jacuzzi. 

Jaime could already feel himself looking just a bit too long at the way the water had beaded on the ivory skin of her chest. 

The bikini she wore left little to the imagination, not that Jaime needed any help with that; he knew her body like the back of his hand, but seeing her like this and not being able to touch her, to make her feel all those things he used to, it was near torture. 

But Jaime set his jaw and climbed in anyway because it was _Cersei_ in a _bikini_ soaking herself in a _hot tub_ and how could he not?

The night was cool, so the heat of the water was actually a relief as Jaime settled back into the corner of the tub across from Cersei, but he quickly found himself heating up as he watched her sip her wine, the tips of her hair dipping into the water, brushing her shoulders. 

She set her glass down and pulled her hair back and off her neck, revealing that alabaster column that seemed to taunt Jaime now. He’d once felt so at home, tucked into her side, his lips there on her neck, finding all those little places that made her gasp and clutch at him and whisper for _more._

And _fuck_ he was staring again. 

He tore his eyes away and looked up at the stars. 

Cersei smirked. “See any U.F.O.’s?” She asked, extending her leg and nudging Jaime’s knee with her foot. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin, laughing as he recovered. Cersei drew her foot back. 

“No.” He laughed. “Not yet, but maybe one day.” 

“Oh yeah?” Cersei asked, laughing. “Do you watch the skies often?” 

Jaime shrugged sheepishly. “Sometimes.” He said. “Mother used to like to stargaze with us. She taught us about the constellations. I like to check up on them every so often.” 

Cersei’s smile had faded slightly as she thought of the missing memories of her mother. 

“I don’t remember that.” She sighed sadly. 

“I can show you some of them.” Jaime suggested. 

Cersei nodded. 

“Well… Jaime said. “There’s Orion. He was a hunter. You can see his belt - those are the three stars right in a row, and then if you look just to the right you can see his bow.” 

He waited, watching Cersei’s eyes skim across the night sky, her body stretched out, open to him. She trusted him, he thought. _She might not remember everything, but she trusts me. She knows she can trust me._

“And there’s Scorpius.” Jaime continued, his voice soft and gentle, the way their mother’s had been when she’d taught them. He remembered then, Cersei listening intently, clinging on to every word that she’d said, looking at their mother as if she’d hung the constellations herself. 

He wished he could give her those memories back. 

“Scorpius looks like a scorpion, kind of flat back and a curly tail with the three prongs on the end.” Jaime pointed toward it and watched as Cersei tried to find it, her brow furrowing in frustration. She drew her lip between her teeth, and Jaime smiled softly. She’d never been any good at picking them out when they were children either. 

“I can’t see them.” Cersei whispered, softly. 

When she brought her head back down, resigned, Jaime could tell how upset she was. 

“Oh, Cers.” He sighed. “They’re hard to see off the bat, I’ve been looking at them for ages now.” 

Cersei’s eyes fell. 

_Here goes nothing._ Jaime sighed, allowing himself to slide over to her side of the tub. 

Cersei looked up at him now that he sat just beside her, and Jaime’s immediate thought was that this had been a mistake. 

He could see the way her eyes glimmered now, the green so vivid he nearly lost himself in them. And he could feel the heat emanating off her, her smooth wet skin glistening, reflecting the light from the veranda, creating its own little constellations all across her body. 

He swallowed hard and tentatively swung an arm around her, taking care to rest it on the edge of the jacuzzi and not on Cersei’s shoulder. 

“There’s Orion.” Jaime whispered, pointing it out to her, drawing his finger across the stars. 

Cersei could follow his finger easier, and Jaime watched as her eyes widened and she recognized the figure above them. 

“Oh!” She breathed. 

Jaime grinned. “And Scorpio.” He said, showing her the next one, drawing across it again.

Cersei smiled widely and nodded, “I see it now.” 

“And mum always used to show us Leo.” Jaime recalled, “That one was her favourite because it’s our sign.” 

He traced the outline for her, and watched as she picked it out, but instead of the smile he expected to see, her lip trembled. 

She lowered her head and turned to Jaime. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, moving closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her body against him. 

Jaime’s heart nearly stopped. He hugged her back, his fingers splayed on the smooth expanse of her back. 

“Always.” Jaime told her. 

Cersei pulled back a bit, her eyes meeting Jaime’s again. What was it about him? 

She fought the urge to be closer, but she could feel his breath on her cheek and it was intoxicating. What if she moved a bit closer, held him just a bit tighter? What would happen? 

But no, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. 

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to move, and neither, apparently could Jaime, who was still staring at her, breathing soft, shuddering breaths, his lips just slightly parted and…

“Jaime?” A voice came from the veranda and the twins flew apart, separating quickly. 

It was Tyrion. He stood there, hands in his pockets as he called out, 

“I need to speak with Jaime.” 


	7. Chapter 7

“What?” Jaime asked when he’d followed Tyrion into Cersei’s kitchen. He stood barefoot and damp on the cold stone floor, towel draped around his waist. 

He tried not to sound _too_ annoyed, but he knew he wasn’t doing a good job hiding it from his brother. Perhaps he should be thanking him - who knows what he would have done had he been left alone there with Cersei for a moment longer. The thing was … she hadn’t exactly seemed like she’d wanted him to move away. 

All these thoughts were rushing through his head as his brother paced nervously in front of him. 

“Tyrion.” He finally said, eager to get whatever this was about out of the way so he could rejoin Cersei in the hot tub. 

Cersei, for her part, had given the brothers their space, though she was peering into the kitchen window, trying to catch a glimpse of them. 

Tyrion had said something about _girl trouble_ , which didn’t much interest Cersei. She didn’t exactly want to entertain thoughts of her younger brother with a woman anyway. 

“I need your help.” Tyrion said through gritted teeth, knowing this was about to turn into a very _very_ long night. 

Jaime cocked his head. “This isn’t about a girl.” He said, feeling slightly gullible. But Cersei had fallen for it as well. That wasn’t like her. _His_ Cersei would have known better. He felt an ache deep inside at the thought. 

Tyrion shrugged. “In a way it is.” He said, nodding toward the door. “It’s about _that_ girl.” 

Jaime rolled his eyes, “She didn’t fucking do anything to Robert, will you let it go?” He was growing even more aggravated. 

Tyrion shook his head. “No, I know. I know that.” He said, his words dripping with guilt. “I know and I’m sorry.” 

Jaime’s brow furrowed. “Well I’m not the one you need to say that to.” He said, turning his body slightly to open the door. 

“No!” Tyrion called, “Just… wait.” 

Jaime turned back to his brother. 

“I need your help with something that I can’t tell you about.” 

Jaime laughed. “What?” 

Tyrion pinched the bridge of his nose. How the fuck was he supposed to go about this?

“I… there’s a tape. Of Cersei.” 

Jaime’s heart seized in his chest. _A tape?_

A tape was never good. His first thought was that it must be a sex tape, and Tyrion must’ve read it on his face, because he shook his head. 

“Not that kind of tape.” He said. “But we need it all the same.” 

“Where is it?” Jaime asked. 

“You know Baelish’s club? The one she was at the night of the accident?” 

Jaime nodded slowly. 

“He wants us to invest in a couple of strip clubs.” Tyrion said, dropping the euphemism he’d used with his father. “Father won’t have it, but he’s made you CEO. I need you to come with me to sign the papers instead.” 

Jaime blinked. “But… father…”

Tyrion nodded. “He’s going to disown me. Murder me, maybe, but not you. You’re all he has. And we need that tape, Jaime.” Tyrion didn’t get into his feelings of guilt - the strange sense of duty he felt, the obligation to protect his sister to make up for his comments.

Jaime didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” He said, dropping his towel on the floor and heading up to his room to get changed. “Yeah.” He repeated to himself. 

* * *

Jaime told Cersei he was going to help Tyrion calm down. She had looked sad, lonely, maybe, and it had hurt to leave her like that, but he had to. 

He sat in the passenger seat of Tyrion’s car, clenching and unclenching his fists. “What’s on the tape?” He asked. 

Tyrion didn’t answer. 

“Tell me.” He said, flatly. 

“It’s not good.” Tyrion offered, knowing the truth would send Jaime over the edge. 

They pulled into the parking lot, and climbed out of the car. 

Jaime slammed the door a little too loud and Tyrion turned to him.

“Tell me now or I’ll tell Cersei about it.” He said. He was half bluffing. He hadn’t been thinking quite clearly since Tyrion had interrupted he and Cersei earlier.

Tyrion crossed his arms. “No good would come of that.” 

Jaime set his jaw and stormed over to his brother, pushing him against the car. 

He didn’t like to use force with Tyrion, especially since they weren’t exactly evenly matched, but his head was spinning and perhaps he’d had a bit too much to drink or the jacuzzi had dehydrated him or maybe he was just fucking sick of not having his Cersei anymore. It was all getting to him, and he just wanted a simple fucking answer. Was that really too much to ask?

Tyrion pushed back half heartedly. He knew he couldn’t keep this from Jaime.

“It’s Robert.” He said, and Jaime stilled.

“It’s a video of she and Robert at the bar and Robert… Robert hits her.” That was putting it very lightly, but Jaime wasn’t exactly the picture of stability as he stood there panting in front of Tyrion like a madman, so he thought that would suffice for now.

And he was quite right. 

Jaime turned without a word and stormed into the club, pushing the door open with such force that it slammed against the wall, rattling on his hinges. 

Tyrion followed quickly behind Jaime as he pushed his way through the crowd of people there and into the back, where he found the only door with a _Manager_ sign on it. 

He didn’t bother knocking, just flung it open with the same force as the front door. 

Baelish, who was at his desktop, stood up at the sudden interruption, figuring it was another drunk who’d wandered through to the back. He thought he might be right, judging by the wild look of the man in front of him, but then he spotted Tyrion just behind and put two and two together. 

He smirked slightly. “Jaime Lannister.” He said. “Do come in.” 

Baelish knew what Jaime looked like. He’d seen photos online, but tonight, Jaime looked nothing like the man in those photos. 

His hair was mussed, slightly darker than he’d seen, and he was dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt that stretched across his chest, a harsh contrast to the Jaime Lannister he’d seen all done up in a suit and tie with a million-dollar smile flashing for the camera.

In fact, _this_ Jaime Lannister was doing anything but smiling. 

Baelish stealthily reached toward his phone and hit the security button, paging one of his bouncers. 

Jaime and Tyrion sat down in the cushy leather chairs in front of Baelish’s desk just as a burly man lumbered in behind them. 

Jaime glanced back for a second to size him up, refusing to be intimidated. 

“So.” Tyrion began. “We’ve come to an agreement. You’ll hand over the tape and my brother Jaime, CEO of Lanniscorp will be happy to sign the necessary documentation to begin our partnership.” 

Jaime side-eyed his brother. How did he sound so calm? He was acting upbeat, almost. 

And that smug fucking smile on Baelish’s face. Jaime would love to fix that for him. 

Baelish was just about to speak when Jaime interrupted. 

“Show me the tape.” He demanded. 

Tyrion turned to him, eyes pleading with his brother not to go there, not now, but Jaime stood up. 

The bouncer moved closer as Jaime approached Baelish’s desk. 

“Show me the tape or I’m not signing anything.” He said darkly. 

Baelish laughed. “You can see the tape.” He said, unlocking his lower desk drawer and pulling it out. “Right here. Are you sure you want to though?” He asked. “I showed Tyrion and he looked a bit green just after.” 

Jaime could hear the blood pulsing through his head as his rage built. “Show me.” He said again. 

Baelish shrugged and popped the tape into the computer, turning the monitor to face Jaime. 

Tyrion refused to look at his brother as the tape played out, but if he had, he’d have seen the veins in Jaime’s neck pop out, the way his fists clenched until his knuckles were white and his fingernails created deep crescent divots in the skin of his palm. He’d have seen his brother blink back tears, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. He’d have seen something inside Jaime break and die. 

He’d have seen the purest form of rage and hatred take him over. 

When Baelish removed the tape from the computer and smirked up at Jaime, pushing the papers toward him, Jaime lunged for the man over his desk. 

Baelish’s chair screeched backward as he dodged Jaime, who was quickly seized by the bouncer.

He whipped around and punched the man straight in the face, and when the man retaliated, Jaime hit him back ten times harder, freeing himself from his grasp and flying toward Baelish, Tyrion shouting at the top of his lungs for his brother to stop. 

But Jaime couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat, hammering away in his ears. He grabbed the tape from Baelish’s hands who was now cowering on the floor, shouting for his man to help him. 

The bouncer grabbed Jaime by his shirt, and Jaime shouted something incomprehensible as he whipped around again and caught the man’s face with his fist. The bouncer flinched back, but quickly lunged forward again, cracking Jaime across his jaw and splitting his lip. 

Jaime’s vision went black for a moment and suddenly all he could think about was Robert laying his fucking hands on Cersei. And that was it. He swung his fist so hard at the bouncer that the man toppled straight to the floor, and Jaime flung himself down with him, landing blow after blow as he panted and huffed, rage flowing through him in a terrifying way he’d never felt before. 

And as he heard another of Baelish’s men storm into the room, he flung the tape down to the floor with such force that it shattered the plastic coating, the hideous film spewing out all over, and Jaime tore at it until it was broken to pieces before he heard Baelish shouting at his men to get them out. 

They were tossed out the back door by the dumpsters, landing on the hard cement, cold and wet now with the light rain that had begun to fall. 

Tyrion stood up almost immediately, his hands flying to his head. 

“Gods! _Gods Jaime!_ You’re going to have us killed, d’you know that?” And then he started maniacally laughing because his brute of a brother had wormed them out from the rock and the hard place in which they’d been trapped. 

“Fuck!” Tyrion exclaimed, reaching down and slapping Jaime on the back, wanting to share the high of the moment with him. 

But Jaime was doubled over, crumpled on the wet cement, his head pressing hard into the ground and his hands in his hair as he rocked slightly, weeping softly, and then pounding his fist against the ground, groaning.

_Oh._ Tyrion stopped, set his hand on his brother’s back. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could think to say. 

Tyrion had managed to coax Jaime back into the car, insisting that he stay the night at his place, so Cersei would’t see him this way, but Jaime refused, collecting himself quickly. He needed to be with her now.

He’d cleaned his face up as best he could on the drive back to Cersei’s and Tyrion let him out reluctantly, with a warning that they shouldn’t speak of this until they knew Baelish wouldn’t press charges. 

Tyrion knew it was unlikely what with all the back alley action going on under the guise of his club, but he didn’t want to take any chances just yet.

Jaime had agreed and stumbled out of the car without another word, making his way back into the house. 

Tyrion waited until his brother was safely inside before driving off, finally letting out a breath he’d been holding far too long. 

* * *

Jaime fumbled with kicking his shoes off in the foyer before making his way around the lower floors to look for Cersei. 

He was frantic to find her, to pull her into his arms and hold her and tell her how sorry he was that he hadn’t protected her. He hated himself more than he’d ever hated anyone in the world, save Robert. 

But Cersei wasn’t downstairs. He climbed up and looked for her in her room, but she wasn’t there either. 

As he made his way down the hall, his heart began to race at the prospect of losing her yet again, when he saw that the stairs to the attic had been pulled down. 

_No._

He climbed them two at a time, ascending into the dark stuffy space above.

And that was where he finally found her. 

She was standing with her back to him, the only light cast by a small lightbulb just over the door, and the window in the far corner. 

Cersei was standing amongst dusty old furniture, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. 

The floorboards creaked as Jaime walked slowly toward her. He knew she heard him there, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence. 

“Cersei.” He said softly as he came to stand beside her. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered. 

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face as she reached a hand out gingerly to touch a small wooden cradle long forgotten that now stood before her. 

“You said I never had children.” She whimpered. 

Jaime hung his head, tears welling up in his eyes again. 

“You lied to me.” She said.

Jaime shook his head. “No.” He said, his voice strangled. “No, Cersei.” 

Her bottom lip quivered as she studied his face, her eyes pausing on his lip, shiny with blood where he’d split it. 

“You never… had the baby.” Jaime said, wincing as the words came out of his mouth. 

Cersei stared at him blankly for a moment, processing. 

Jaime studied her, trying to understand how it was he hadn’t known about what Robert was doing to her. Trying to find a reason she hadn’t told him. 

She appeared so small to him now, so delicate. He could hardly bear the thought of Robert’s fat hand on her, squeezing too hard to holding too tight, being too rough. Cersei. His Cersei. She’d always seemed so untouchable to him. She’d always seemed invincible, and he supposed she was, having survived a man like that. But oh, Gods, how had he let this happen?He was supposed to protect her. 

And now this. More pain. More suffering. And he was bloody useless. Unable to stop these awful things from happening to her. 

Jaime dropped to his knees in front of her. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Cersei. Please.” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry.” 

Cersei watched him for a moment, staring down at him, still unable to stop the stream of tears falling from her eyes as she thought of the baby she’d never known.

Then, she got to her knees and joined her brother.

She reached out and touched his shoulder, and he collapsed forward and into her arms, an utter wreck. 

Cersei cried along with him, feeling awful at how awful he felt. She’d known this had been hard on him, but she hadn’t imagined it had been _this_ hard. 

He clung to her tightly and she allowed it, needing the comfort as well, her stomach flipping as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her there with his nose, pressing his lips against the skin and making her burn inexplicably at his touch. 

“You need to tell me.” She said softly but firmly. “You need to tell me everything.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took 5ever!

Jaime followed Cersei downstairs, allowing her to pull him along, his hand resting gently and comfortably in hers.  She led them into her reading room, lined with windows on three sides and shelves of books on the fourth, where they entered.  The moonlight filtered in, casting strange shadows across the arm chairs and sofa in the center of the room.  Cersei let go of Jaime’s hand and it felt as though she’d physically cut a piece of his body from him.  She glided toward the windows, a picture of grace, even now with her whole life a mystery to her.  He watched her for a moment, staring up at the stars before he was able to move toward her. 

He stood beside her, bringing his hand up carefully, letting it hover in the air for a moment, just over her lower back. He questioned himself, if it were too much to touch her there, and then he hated himself for it because in the end, did it really matter?  Cersei was upset and if this would help her, why wouldn’t he do it for her? What was he afraid of? If she rebuffed him then so be it - it wasn’t as though he had her in any way that mattered now anyway. Losing the rest of her might actually be easier than this fucked up purgatory he was stuck in, or so he was beginning to tell himself.

When he finally gave in and placed his hand on her, she was warm and soft, and everything he needed and everything he wanted and just _everything_. And he missed her _so much._

“Jaime.” She turned to him gently, tears still glimmering in her eyes. 

Jaime chewed his bottom lip. 

How was he meant to tell her these things? All the ways he’d failed her. He could barely _think_ about them, let alone give them a physical voice. And now that he’d seen how Robert had treated her, he felt like his whole heart had been shredded to pieces. 

He swallowed hard and averted his eyes. He was ashamed he’d allowed her to be treated that way.  He drew a shaky breath and felt Cersei take his hand in hers.  He ducked his head, closing his eyes tightly as he felt her move closer. 

“Tell me about my baby.” She whispered. 

Jaime nodded, opening his eyes to look at her. He owed her this. He would want her to do the same for him. This was _her_ story. She deserved to know it. 

“Come sit.” He said, taking her hand and leading her to the emerald velvet sofa.  He didn’t let go of her even as they sat there, Cersei’s eyes fixed on his, searching desperately for more information. 

Jaime drew a deep breath. “You were pregnant.” He said, remembering the days. 

They’d been torturous for him. He’d felt her pulling away, a piece of Robert literally growing inside of her. He expected her to hate it too, and felt guilty for thinking that when he realised how much the baby meant to her, how much she wanted it. He wished he could be the one to give that to her, but she was happy, and that’s all that should have mattered. She loved him no matter what, and the baby wouldn’t change that. It was easier to see that now. He’d never spoken to her about it, feeling far too pathetic and selfish to pull her out of the joy that suddenly exuded from her spirit. He’d been jealous.  It had been awful to watch her body change to accommodate Robert’s seed. Like the bastard had her from the inside out now. Jaime couldn’t stand thinking of it that way. 

“When?” Cersei interrupted his thoughts.

“A little over a year ago.” He told her. “That’s when you…” 

She cocked her head, waiting for him. 

He sighed deeply. This was hard. 

“You were seven months pregnant.” He said, his thumb running across the back of her hand. “And you had a miscarriage and lost… lost the baby.” 

Cersei flinched back, tears escaping her eyes and running down her cheeks. 

Jaime’s stomach sank as he thought back to the pain she’d been in. He’d have gladly dealt with his own pain, at the thought of losing her, if it would have spared her from that agony. 

He’d visited her in the hospital the moment she’d called him. Robert had left already, because of course he had. He’d left her there by herself, curled up on her side on the small hospital bed in the dark.  Jaime hadn’t said a word, had just climbed into her bed, taken her in his arms and let her burrow into his chest, let her sob against him for what seemed like hours before she grew too weary and fell asleep.

“I’m sorry.” Jaime said. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to protect you from that - the pain.” He set his jaw and brought his free hand to her cheek, thumb caressing her skin, wiping away tears that kept on falling.  “I’m so sorry.” Jaime told her softly. He hated more than anything to see her cry. 

“It was a boy.” Cersei whimpered. 

Jaime nodded. “Do you remember?” 

Cersei sniffled, wiping tears from her face and straightening up. Jaime let his hand fall away from her cheek as she moved back, composing herself. She’d always been good at that. 

“I think I do.” She said. 

She had a brief vision, herself, alone in a hospital bed, Robert storming in, shouting at her, shouting at a nurse, punching a wall, storming out, muttering about _his boy his boy._

Cersei snapped her eyes shut tightly as she tried to process it. It was painful. She was seized with an anxiousness she didn’t feel equipped to handle, her chest tight and her breathing shallow.  She felt the emptiness of that hospital room, the emptiness in her heart, in her body where her child should have been. She felt Robert’s rage and hatred and disappointment. 

But then she felt something else - something warm and comforting. She felt Jaime holding her in bed. She felt his hand running across her back as she cried. She breathed in the scent of him and felt safe. He didn’t shout at her or blame her, he just let her cry. He was her shelter, standing steadfast in the eye of a storm. He was a heavy iron chain, the only thing keeping her from floating away into the ether. He was a silent accomplice in her misery whether he felt it himself or not. He was everything she needed him to be and he asked for nothing in return. 

Cersei opened her eyes and fell into her brother’s arms, holding on to him tightly. She pressed her face to his neck and nodded. “I remember it.” She said, tears falling freely. “I remember it.”

Jaime’s heart was seizing in his chest. Was it the pain that was helping her remember? What a cruel joke that would be. What if she could only remember the horrible things and not the good?

He held her close, hand running over her back until she stopped crying, just the same as he’d done that night just over a year ago. 

He took a shaking breath. “Robert hit you.” He said, finally. 

Cersei hardly reacted. She’d already known. She’d had too many nightmares about it for it to be a coincidence. She simply nodded. 

“I’m so sorry, Cersei. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have… I would have… I would have killed him.” Jaime growled at the thought of it, and Cersei felt the rumble in his throat.

“I would have fucking killed him.” He told her.

But Cersei was still stuck on the memory of that night in the hospital. It had been the clearest memory she’d had since the accident. 

“You stayed with me that night.” She said against him. 

Jaime nodded, suddenly acutely aware of the way his heart was pounding. He hoped Cersei couldn’t feel it. 

“I did.” He said. 

They sat there in silence and Cersei pulled back from him. 

She watched Jaime there, the moonlight shining gently through the windows and casting funny shadows on him, his scruffy hair seeming to glow golden against his skin, the veins on his forearms popping out in the shadows, his face troubled and sad. 

“You played me a song.” She said softly, not entirely sure she could trust the memory, but she saw Jaime’s eyes light up. 

“I did.” He said again, more eager this time. “Do you remember the song?”

Cersei chewed her lip. She could picture herself laying there in his arms, his phone balanced on his chest, playing some calming song, but she couldn’t quite place the music. 

“I don’t know.” She said, sadly, looking up to him, looking for an answer. “I don’t know what I liked to listen to.” 

Tears filled her eyes suddenly as she became frustrated at herself and her stupid unexplained desires and all the songs that meant nothing to her now. 

“Ok.” Jaime said, squeezing her hand. “It’s ok, Cersei.”  He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his phone. 

Cersei waited for the music to play before sitting up, pulling away from Jaime.  She listened to the sad plucking, finding it exceedingly comforting, and when it finally transitioned into vocals, crisp and light and bare as a raw wound and equal parts gentle and strong, she felt her heart flutter.

“I remember this song.” She said softly.

Jaime waited in silence, watching Cersei. She hadn’t expected a reply. She was too busy listening still. 

Jaime shut his eyes tightly at the lyrics.  There had been so many times when they’d listened to this song. 

The first time he’d heard it had been as unceremonious as it possibly could have been. He’d been in line at the grocery, a basket full of food in his arms. He usually didn’t listen to the music they played over the tired intercom there, but something about that hauntingly etherial voice cracked into his thoughts and he couldn’t help but listen intently to every word. 

He’d left his grocery basket there right at the end of the line and had rushed to his car, calling Cersei immediately. She’d been annoyed with his urgency, but he’d needed to see her then, and she eventually obliged.

He didn’t play the song for her that night, he waited. 

When he finally did play it for her, they'd been laying in Jaime’s bed, the very night after Cersei had been married to Robert. She’d pretended to be indifferent to it at first, as she did with many things, especially the things that touched her the most. But as she lay there on her back, Jaime watched her eyes brim with tears. And just as the first one escaped and rolled down her cheek and onto the pillow and Jaime was about to reach for her, she'd rolled into his arms and pressed her face into the crook of his neck holding onto him tightly. He’d held her back.

“What do you remember?” He finally asked her, clearing his throat, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“It makes me feel… sad. That’s all.” She hung her head. “I just feel sad.” Her bottom lip quivered and it made Jaime’s heart ache. 

“I don’t know why.” She said. 

Jaime stood and offered her his hand, wanting desperately to make her feel better.  It was normal for a brother to dance with his sister, no?  He already knew the answer was no. Not given the way he knew it would make him feel.  But Cersei took his hand, smiling at him weakly. He wondered if she felt anything at all. His heart ached that the longing he suffered with might now be one sided. 

He could handle this for a little while, if it helped her get back to being his Cersei, but surely not forever. He couldn't live that way, and yet, deep down, he knew he would never leave her, no matter what she did or didn't remember. 

He found himself afraid to touch her again. Every part of her seemed too intimate.  His hands hovered over her hips, unsure.  Cersei sensed his hesitation and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his.  Jaime nearly groaned. He missed the feel of her against him more than he could say.  He let his hands rest high on her hips. 

They swayed slowly about the room, Cersei resting her cheek on Jaime’s shoulder after a while to hide the tears that threatened to fall yet again for some strange reason she couldn’t quite place her finger on.  It was all terribly frustrating for her, and that made her more upset. 

Jaime’s hand found the back of her head and began to stroke her hair as she clung to him. Oh, if only he could kiss her and show her that she wasn’t alone. He would never leave her. 

Cersei felt incredibly strange. She was upset and Jaime was helping her feel better, but it was more than that. He was being so gentle with her and so soft. And maybe that was normal, but it didn’t feel it. She liked it a bit too much. She felt a bit too comforted by him, and it scared her, these feelings that she’d been having for weeks now frightened her and yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from him. 

They moved like that until the song played out, and even afterward, when the room was filled with only with silent moonlight and quiet breaths, they stayed like that. Jaime stroking her hair still, his nose pressed to her temple, breathing in her scent, and Cersei’s hands fallen to his chest, her face tucked close to him, forehead against his neck where she could feel how warm he was and how his heart beat. 

Cersei’s hand began to creep into Jaime’s hair, combing and stroking through the silky strands at the nape of his neck. Almost immediately, she felt him stiffen.

Cersei leaned back so she could look into Jaime’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” She said.

“No.” He told her immediately. “Don’t ever be sorry for that.” 

She watched him for a moment, desire taunting her. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted his _kiss_ him? What was wrong with her?  She gasped as she finally admitted it to herself and took a step back, but Jaime took her hands, pulling her close again. He looked her in the eyes and knew. She wanted him. She _wanted_ him. 

They stood there dumbly for a moment, each of them breathing heavily, daring the other to make the move. 

To Jaime it would feel like coming home. To Cersei, it might as well have been jumping off a cliff. 

But when Jaime breathed roughly, “Do it.” She couldn’t have cared less. She stepped right over the edge and into the free fall, rising up on her toes and pressing her lips to his fiercely, the way she liked to do everything. 

Jaime groaned into her mouth, finally tasting her again. His hand was in her hair suddenly, cradling her head there against him, drinking her in, reveling in the softness of her lips and the warmth of her body. 

And as Cersei kissed him, she realised that they’d definitely _definitely_ done this before. It was like she’d been holding her breath and was finally able to breathe. It was like she’d been starving and was finally able to eat. It was like she’d been cut in half and was finally whole. 

And then she remembered. She remembered everything.

* * *

** Epilogue **

* * *

Jaime lay there sleeping heavily with his arm draped protectively over Cersei’s midsection. Cersei had woken before her alarm, but decided to stay in bed as long as she could, enjoying the feel of Jaime against her. 

When the alarm finally did go off, Jaime jolted awake and swatted at it blindly until he found the off button and finally shut it up.  He rolled over sleepily toward Cersei, a satisfied smirk on his face as his eyes raked over her body, proud that they were still naked from the night before.  Cersei rolled her eyes, but Jaime pulled her close, his mouth immediately finding her neck, his tongue tickling her, making her laugh breathlessly as his hands ran over the skin of her back. 

“Mmh.” He hummed, his teeth trailing across her jaw and up to her ear where he nibbled lightly on her skin.  “You know you don’t have to go back yet.” He said.

Cersei laughed again, pushing at Jaime’s chest. “I know.” She said. “But I’m ready.” 

Jaime smiled at that and kissed her cheek. “I know you are.” He said, proudly. 

“Are you sure you’re ok driving?” He asked. “I could drive. It’s only a bit past Lanniscorp.” 

Cersei shook her head. She was ready. She was ready for this. 

Jaime smiled softly at her and accepted the sweet kiss she offered him.

* * *

Cersei climbed into her car and set her briefcase in the passenger seat. This was only the third time she’d driven since the accident and admittedly she was still a bit shaky, but she was strong and she knew she could do this. 

So she threw the car in reverse and backed out of her drive, heading out on her way to work. 

She’d been lucky. She’d been exceptionally lucky to have made nearly a full recovery of her memory. The only thing she didn’t seem to have any recollection of was the night of the accident itself. 

When she was about halfway to her office, a car cruised in front of her, cutting her off and causing her to swerve swiftly to avoid collision. Cersei swore aloud, but was quickly taken with another flashback; the night of the accident. She’d known it was inside of her brain, lurking around just waiting for the right moment to pop back out at her. 

She had to pull over as the memory hit her. 

* * *

There she was in the passenger seat of Robert’s car, head throbbing and bleeding from her temple where he’d slammed her into the door. 

The streetlights outside seemed to rush by at light speed as Robert drove erratically. 

_Fuck._ She thought as her hand came up to assess the damage to her temple. 

As she pulled her hand back to see the blood that Robert had drawn, she felt a jolt of rage surge through her. She hated him. She hated everything he stood for and everything he did to her and every single thing about him. And she was tired of this. She was tired of his fucked up games - the way he manhandled and abused her. 

Truthfully, this moment had been a long time coming. She’d been thinking about it more and more lately as Robert seemed to be escalating. Either he was going to kill her or she was going to kill him or die trying. 

And maybe it was that her head had just been bashed against a hard metal door so she wasn’t quite thinking clearly when she decided to lean over and seize the steering wheel, pushing hard against it so they veered sharply to the left and off the road. Maybe it had been reckless that she’d not taken into account the repercussions of her actions. Maybe it had been risky in more ways than one, because if Robert survived her doing this to him - if she survived it, she knew he’d try to kill her. 

But in that moment, all she cared about was ending it. Ending him. And she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "A Case of You" by Joni Mitchell


End file.
